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.