The Docks
Inhaling the fresh airBreathing the sea breeze
Gazing into the vast horizon past the Golden Gate
The oxygen flowing in one's blood
The birds tweeting in the trees
The smell of railroad tracks and anise in the air
The old train depot to one's side and
The old docks up ahead
with proud and rich histories
Exhaling the air, the ailments flow with it
Feeling fine, and breathing with the wind.
Public Collections Containing This Poem
Other Poems By This Author
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The River Flows On (Part II)
PoetCharles Murray II
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The River Flows On (Part I)
PoetCharles Murray II
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