The Pier At Herne Bay Poem by June Walker

A piece of the pier sits on the horizon,
like a lost hope, or a lost ship,
a perching place for birds,
a marker for fishermen's boats at sea.

A Marie-Celeste, a ghost pier,
inhabited by the spirits of adults and children,
who formerly sauntered along
on sunny English afternoons-
a day at the seaside-
snapshots in a Victorian album.

An anachronism,
a ghostly edifice,
that laden ships pass by,
stately, portly,
making for London docks,
the metropolis, the hubbub:
a million miles from reality.

Shrouded in the mists of time.
a painting by Turner…
the pier at sea.