Under the pier
Where the racing waves
Like wind playing with uncovered hair
Entangle
Where racing waves pummel
Boom and batter a confusion
All angles
Where limpets and barnacles hold
Deathly tight
Under the pier
That’s where they found her body
That night
crispina kemp 
I feared the fierceness of the water would bring added doom!
Nicely done, Missy!
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Thank you. I love watching the waves as the thrash and entangle beneath the pier. The poem write itself from there
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So do I. The wildness is exciting! You used it well.
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Thank you, Dale. I think it shows I’ve spent too many hours around piers!
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I love it. Nothing wrong with sharing what you love, I say.
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Mostly it’s been work! But I do love these magnificent structures
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Work… most enjoyable 😉
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Holiday industry. Entertainment. How can it not be enjoyable?
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I know, right?
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Oh no! I was not expecting that! Delightful twist.
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Thank you, Violet. A poem that wrote itself
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I love when that happens!
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They’re the best.
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Oh, dear! I was afraid this would happen. Well done, you!
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Thank you. The ending wrote itself. I just focused on those waves
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Oh! This is sad
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Yea. It just happened. Wasn’t planned out at all. The words just fell into place, and I went with it
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That’s cool.
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As said, it just happens
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👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼
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