Kept in shadows of misfortunate fractures of light

a dull grey clinking could be heard as she

makes her way across the forgotten boat dock.

A lost image of a girl resting her head against

her knees reaching to catch the gloomy waters.

Her appearance matched the old dock as her

hair scrambled about her face,

like grass growing over the rusty metal.

That was I.

You could only see a forgotten labor,

with a young pair of dark eyes to match.

Where I see the beauty of a metal treasure

hiding it’s own from the open.

Staring at an expression of my future,

          the water it was.

Perfectly content with scooping up rocks and

watching them fall to the bottom.

Yes, that was I.