End of the pier By Mark Niedzwiedz

End of the pier
I remember when your voice was young 
The times we mulled over half-truths, howled at a drunken moon
We were great friends then, needing each other
To play at madness, sit under the Judas tree
Holding God to account, the universe to disorder
Nothing was beyond our vanity, everything in reach
As we walked in the days of our youth 
Stride for stride on Brighton beach
I remember when your voice became deeper
Attuned more to the grey grit of existence, than the starlit sacred
No more eager gush of ideas, conversation now a slow, steady drip 
For you had outgrown my religion and I your lack of it
Sill, we laughed along the promenade, but now a little out of step 
You the busy doer, me the artist pure, but to his own, each
As we took somewhat different paths
In our middle years on Brighton beach
I remember when your voice suddenly sounded old
Trotting out family lines, work’s fine, no youthful spine
I was now alone to burn in hell, or dance on heaven’s peak
But just as I felt the weight of our friendship whither to something small
I realised our journey was more than a climb up a cold mountain  
For what else is there to learn of life, or teach? 
Than the warmth of togetherness, the tearing and the sharing
So, as we come to the end of the pier, I’m glad we made it here
Returning friends from distant places, home to Brighton beach 

From the UK, Mark Niedzwiedz is a professional musician, composer and lyricist. So far, Mark’s poems have appeared, or scheduled to appear, in poetry journals such as Grey Sparrow, Oddville Press, Scritura, Wink, Rat’s Arse review, Sac, Literary Heist, Harbinger Asylum, SHiFT, Blaze, The Big Windows Review. The Literary Nest and elsewhere.

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