_Alone on the docks_

_Sits an old man_

_Who never talks_

_Don’t know if he can_

_No one knows his story_

_Except the dead_

_And the guilty_

_That’s what they said_

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I know his story. And I sit next to him every day. I cry when he cries. He cries over his sister and I cry over his sadness.

I know her story. She loved to listen to music on the docks. She was the first to drown. As she was held under the water, the last thing she thought of was her brother.

I know their story. Outside playing games until they got called inside for dinner. Laughing just a little to loud past bedtime and getting told to go to sleep, there is school in the morning after all. Running ahead when the dog is being walked, acting out stories. Then they grew up and drifted apart. And then it all ended to fast, and he regretted ignoring her for his friends.

I know the story of right now. Her brother has grown old, while she remains forever young, a ghost who can’t let go of him. Who sits next to him every day, crying when he cries.