Along the Dock

Prancing along a seaside dock,

I start to spin like the hands

Of a clock, telling time

As fast as it can, never wavering,

Out of rhythm, never skipping

A happy beat.

I stop a moment to collect myself,

As my silly brain keeps on spinning,

And I almost lose my balance.

But I don’t topple, thank goodness.

It’s all a part of a simple day

Among the boats and fishermen.

Measure and scrub, tie and lift.

Simple and sure, tried and true.


Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger

2 thoughts on “Along the Dock”

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