The dock had been dismantled
Flesh ripped away
Now all that’s left are the bones
Aged wooden legs
Rebellious. Resilient. Resistant to decay
They’ve stomped the tests of time
Straddled sprinting waters of the bay
Hurtled over highs and lows
Ran with the Mariner’s Rime
Undressed to the ebbs and flows
Tap-danced a pantomime
So you’d be right in assuming
The notion that’s been looming
For only the legs of the Dock knows
How in the end – the depth always grows
But how could legs so devout, Dedicated
Have fallen in love with the waves so fickle
Why would ocean return, just to be subjugated
By the legs that slash him like a sickle
Perhaps it’s why they were both  created
To fall in love with what they should have hated
But still, once again, up the legs like a trickle
Over where the deck would’ve been
The sea returned and held her whole
Flooding himself through her marrow
Embracing all that did reside within
For the day apart had took its toll
And until the first cry of Dawn’s sparrow
The Tides and the legs of the dock
As if shot through them both, an arrow
Will, in an embrace, roll
Like quelling storm within a soul
Then peeps a little whisper , faint as a  feather
That perplexes, yet soothes them with a shock
Two endless mates, the tides, the dock
Could through any hardship weather
And until ’till times final tock
Would be forever alone

via Daily Prompt: Final

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