Let me stay just one more moment
on the bright pier of my childhood,
the night beyond lit like a thousand candles
held in a thousand tiny hands.
Let me hold onto the feeling of that place:
the wet wood of the boardwalk
beneath sandy feet,
the silence of the beach, finally
stilling as night falls,
the rising ferris wheel glowing,
colors washing over the pier,
the children’s cheeks, and the sea itself--
green, then pink, then blue.
The clinging light.
These are the moments
where it is not bad to have a body
and know it well.
The ones where arcade prizes
and tickets are kept like flowers
pressed in a book, memories to return to.
Listen: hear the cries of children
as a rollercoaster peaks.
These voices we cannot keep.
on the bright pier of my childhood,
the night beyond lit like a thousand candles
held in a thousand tiny hands.
Let me hold onto the feeling of that place:
the wet wood of the boardwalk
beneath sandy feet,
the silence of the beach, finally
stilling as night falls,
the rising ferris wheel glowing,
colors washing over the pier,
the children’s cheeks, and the sea itself--
green, then pink, then blue.
The clinging light.
These are the moments
where it is not bad to have a body
and know it well.
The ones where arcade prizes
and tickets are kept like flowers
pressed in a book, memories to return to.
Listen: hear the cries of children
as a rollercoaster peaks.
These voices we cannot keep.