The pier is always the same.
Resting on the beach, allowing the waves
to roll in underneath.
Every day it sees people gather in masses.
Every day it feels many footsteps.
Every day it hears much laughter and joy.
Every day providing a getaway,
letting those from all walks of life
walk across its timeless wooden slats.
But she is hardly ever the same.
Hair up, hair down, hair messy, hair prim–
never the same accessory.
Some days she looks at the waves.
Some days she arrives with friends.
Some days she tries to escape from the city.
Some days she’ll people watch,
letting her mind wander to their own stories
since she’s barely sure of her own.
But there is one thing that is constant—
her hope, her faith.
her love for the breeze about her face.
Today she looks up just waiting for the stars
to light up her sometimes dark night,
to remind her that her constant is always there.