Poetry about the dock

Part 1 of modern poetry describing the dock: The dock

I came to the dock in the afternoon

Eighteen years apart

The river is still warm as usual

The river bank is only slightly thinner

I opened it to the smallest extent

Tightly tightened my bucket waist

Stepping on the pier Step by step on the stairs

I stumbled accidentally

The moss seemed to be trying to trick me

The fall of this middle-aged disaster

At the pier at this moment, the sun sets very quickly

Sinking to the bottom of the river, my eyes have no time to sit down

And the boy on the pier also turned around

His silhouette, striding forward

Chasing towards the setting sun’s hometown

Part 2 of modern poetry describing the dock: The dock

I wandered in the mist

There is no one around me,

This is my pier alone.

It’s raining, drizzling,

In the illusion, you are holding an umbrella high,

standing beside me.

Reach out your hand,

touch the gentle beard on your lips,

What you feel is the cold raindrops!

Remove the stiffness arms,

hot tears welled up in the eyes,

tears and rain fell all over the ground.

At this time of that year,

your back disappeared from the cold rain,

my longing began with tears...

< p>Part 3 of modern poetry describing the dock: Longing on the dock

One kind of longing is called the south

The other kind of longing is called the north

The process of going back and forth like this

We have been tired for a thousand years

But we must hold on to the return ticket tightly

―――――――――――――< /p>

Thinking about it

The next hug will look like

Use all your strength

――――

The boring pier

Also lonely in the south

Also lonely in the north

From the moment we set off

This pier was destined to be the only one Staying together

――――――――――――

Thinking about it

The next time I come back

I want to hold your hand

Modern poetry describing the dock 4: You are the port and I am the ship

Autumn is coming,

The ground is covered with yellow leaves ,

On a quiet road,

I am the only one walking slowly on the quiet stairs.

You are the withered yellow leaves that need to wither. ,

The lost beauty.

But I will paste the juice of green leaves on your body and make you live again.

You are like a port built where I need it,

When I am tired, I hope I can park on your shore,

Sometimes I Just like a drifting boat floating alone in the sea,

Finally one day you appeared and I had a parking place,

From then on I am no longer alone. ,

Because of your company.

You are the port and I am the ship.

I hope we can become each other’s home forever.