On the Pier

Day 17: RWP asks us to write a poem about one of the elements: water, fire, earth, or wind.

On the Pier

Wind on our faces,

standing at the pier,

watching the surfers

ride waves and fall.

We push words deep down

in our pockets, avoid looking

at each other, as if our faces

were suns, hot with a fire

we were never taught not

to play with.

I am eating a popsicle that

is too cold, crunching ice

between my teeth when

you take my hand

the first time.

Even the earth beneath me

trembled a little then,

I know it did.