she balances on thin wobbly legs
resembling a newborn giraffe

blackened weather-beaten wood
ruins of a once busy pier
weakened by nature's forces year after year
but too proud to fall into the channel below

she's surrounded by a lifetime of tears
ebbing and flowing around her
spraying her with mists of seasons present,
leaning seaward a little
as the wind has blown

like Arlington Cemetery or Vietnam Memorial
she is an oft' sought place
with a familiar face
which local artists attempt to duplicate
but miserably fail to capture her soul;

she stands alone

but for the pelicans and seagulls
who call her home

isolated from shore
she can reach there no more,
long past her glory days of yore
when she provided a home of sorts
for visiting boats and people of leisure

she has greeted many sunrises
with wistful ideas of grandeur,
occasionally wished for sunsets
to end a seemingly endless day

but, she is O.K.

and her familiar face still marks
that place oft' sought

where she will one day meet her match,
a hurricane blast, perhaps
will take her to rest
below the place she knows best

but the strength of her soul
and her shadow atop the water
shall remain