The Perfect Stick
I found the perfect walking stick on the beach and I picked it up and walked with it.
I brushed off the sand so I could admire it better.
It was almost perfectly straight and knotty and seemed to have a natural handle for gripping.
I had a big smile on my face as I walked along the sand, well behind my parents.
I puffed out my chest and walked
with the posture of an infantryman.
It was foggy and cold and white caps licked the shore with violence.
The foam, brown with salt, gathered near my feet and it smelled like seaweed.
I could hear the ugly cawing of seagulls.
The tide was coming in.
My dad kept a close eye on me as he walked and I remember seeing his eyes grow
wide as I made a beeline for a large rock, twenty yards away.
I always enjoyed climbing rocks, and this one would be a great climb,
especially while holding the perfect walking stick.
As I began to climb towards the rock, dad ran towards me.
I ascended the rock and a large wave came and I was trapped, though unconcerned.
I still had my stick and after all, it was perfect.
It wouldn’t do to feed it to the ocean.
The tide was coming in.
My dad leapt onto the rock ahead of me.
He was above the waves and the rising water.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
I looked at him, his mouth wide, his hand stretched towards mine,
eyes desperate with fear.
“Give me your hand,” he said again.
But I couldn’t find a way to grab his hand and keep the stick so I shook my head no.
“Give me your hand,” he plead with me .
Another wave came, this time crashing into me.
I lost my balance
and my handle on the stick.
He lunged and picked me up by my shirt and cradled me to himself.
I looked at him and at my stick floating in the waves
and I began to cry.
all rights reserved. copyright October 2011 Justin W. Price
If you like this poem...
A revised version of it appears in my ebook, available both on Kindle and as a PDF. It will soon be available as a limited edition chap book. To request a PDF or chap book, Digging to China,click here.
Thanks for Reading.
PDXKaraokeGuy, also known as Justin W. Price, is the managing editor at eFiction horror. Husband to Andrea, father to two dogs. writer.poet.baseball fan. tattooed. He is am amateur theologian with a rabid sweet tooth. He resides in a suburb of Portland, Oregon.He has a poetry book available for Amazon Kindle, and also maintains a blog, FirstBlog. His work has been featured in the Crisis Chronicles, efiction Magazine, The Hellroaring Review, the Bellwether Review, eFiction Humor, and the Rusty Nail. Please visit his profile page for more information. Thanks!
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