Five a.m. and the grill is hot.
Coffee black in a plastic pot.
I flip the eggs for the morning crowd.
The rain outside is humming loud.
Ink on the dock in a gray morning haze.
A paper boat lost in a watery maze.
Words washed away by the salt and the tide.
A secret place where the memories hide.
The regulars take their usual seat.
The diner air smells of grease and wheat.
I watch the fog roll across the bay.
While the early birds start their long day.
Ink on the dock in a gray morning haze.
A paper boat lost in a watery maze.
Words washed away by the salt and the tide.
A secret place where the memories hide.
A white envelope floating by the pier.
The kind of ghost that I used to fear.
It spins in circles near the rusted rail.
A lonely ship with a paper sail.
Ink on the dock in a gray morning haze.
A paper boat lost in a watery maze.
Words washed away by the salt and the tide.
A secret place where the memories hide.
I wipe the counter with a damp blue rag.
The morning spirit starts to lag.
I think of things that I never said.
Before the fire in the stove was dead.
The ferry horn blows a heavy low note.
The water swallows that handwritten boat.
No one is waiting for the mail to arrive.
Just a cold wind keeping the harbor alive.
I pour a cup for the man in the booth.
The bitter coffee tells the honest truth.
The dock is empty and the sky is lead.
The letter's gone and the story is read.
Ink on the dock in a gray morning haze.
A paper boat lost in a watery maze.
Words washed away by the salt and the tide.
A secret place where the memories hide.
Drifting slow on the tide.
Nowhere left for the ink to hide.
(Fade out with bass walk)
