Derelict

In a forgotten bayou, secluded and pristine, a siege of herons wade through the tannic waters, searching for niblets of mussels and succulent minnows. Keeping the choice morsels away from thieving ibis.

Derelict, abandoned to the elements, the dock crumbles onto itself, hanging on by sheer force of will. Hoping to again hear the happy sounds of children along the banks. Long summer days of swinging, muddy and mosquito bitten legs burnishing the wooden slats are long gone, grown and left behind.

Young lovers, impervious to splinters, once rendezvoused there on warm summer nights, their coupling illuminated by the muted light of fireflies. In the afterglow, they confess deep feelings of yearning and commitment, certain to be repeated in a new season to a different paramour.

The pathway, precarious and overgrown, no longer welcomes visitors. No meaning of life discovered, no soul mate found, a lost moment in time. Memories worn away like so many weather-beaten, wooden planks. Birds and fish the only ones left to remember.

Trifecta, a weekly one-word prompt, challenges writers to use that word in its third definition form, using no less than 33 words or no more than 333. The week’s prompt is: Deep [adj \ˈdēp\] 3: difficult to penetrate or comprehend : recondite