Rainbow Dock


A rainbow dock

each board a different colour,

tattered, battered, rusted.

And that was home.

Every creaking step took me

closer to the water.

The water loomed green and aging

but I was comfortable

with its tug at my heartstrings.

Each blink and I grew wearier,

and though I felt heavier, the water

felt thick and cool.

Sometimes a prickly pest bat at my leg,

and I swam to the rainbow dock.

Fingers clinging to the edge,

rebellious strings of wood chipping away at my palms.

And I fall back into the water.


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