Walking onto the dock it tilts to the right, creaking,
Old, graying wood and metal sinking into the muck.
Each year we venture in the water to raise it up,
watching out for Jaws the giant snapping turtle.
...
A Special Moment
My hand reaches out
Grasping,
Memory elusive
Morning,
Mists rose
Details obscured
Dreaming reality
Questioning…
Was it really that way?