The morning air is cold and grey
The salt has washed the night away
A piece of glass in polished gold
A story that remains untold
The ferry dock is stripped and bare
A sudden chill is in the air
The wooden planks are bleached and white
They hold the ghost of amber light
Hold the lens to see the shore
Where the heavy tides once wore
Catch the glow of early dawn
Long after every ship is gone
The copper tube is worn and thin
Where old and tired hands had been
It points toward a vacant bay
Where all the blue has turned to grey
Hold the lens to see the shore
Where the heavy tides once wore
Catch the glow of early dawn
Long after every ship is gone
One steady beam of lemon gold
A winter truth that must unfold
The metal burns against the skin
Where all the lonely days begin
The water laps the rusted pier
The distant bell is ringing clear
A single bird begins its flight
To chase the ending of the night
The telescope reflects the sun
Before the working day has run
It stares across the empty foam
Where no one ever wandered home
Hold the lens to see the shore
Where the heavy tides once wore
Catch the glow of early dawn
Long after every ship is gone
The brass is cold.
The light is gold.
Still standing here.
