Rafter

The real waiting is not for the night,
but for what follows after,
the night will become morning,
in the blink of the rafter

The rafter,
who paddled a lifetime,
the waters,
that were begrimed

There was a laughter,
That she was after,
So she paddled and paddled,
Looking for that laughter

One day as she paddled,
Saw the water was clear,
Wondered when that happened,
When she hit the pier