Swim Dock
A poem about a floating dock we used to jump off of during the summer.
I miss it.
It wasn't like a typical dock that extends from the shore–
it was an island.
Not even eight by eight feet across, yet it was our island.
It was our perch, our rock, our diving board.
And when we played "King of the Mountain"
we could feel the rush as we descended towards the water.
It was our hub for exploration–
we piled strange lake rocks on the damp wood for study.
It was our lifeline for tag–
No pursuer could tag us once our fingers graced its mossy sides.
I miss that dock.
I miss our swim dock in all its simplicity and humbleness.
It was good to us.
About the Creator
Maddy Newt
I'm a Stony Brook University graduate and production services manager for the NYS Assembly. Writing is one of my passions and Vocal has been a great creative outlet for me.
Follow me on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/madleenewt120/
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.