Carry on

The spray of the ocean peppered his tired face. The wind whipped at his hair and carried with it the thick fishy scent of the old pier pylons. He used to come her as a young boy and walk along the deck of that pier. He often looked through the cracks and watched as the cool blue ocean flowed gently beneath him. Now fierce and grey, that same ocean was trying to swallow the old pier with every great wave it sent. He watched as the mighty pier held fast against its fickle opponent, calmly enduring, patiently waiting for peace.