Waves, that’s what they reminded me of lying there in their sad, rusty decline. Forgotten in time. A fine, misty rain blew in my eyes, my shirt clung slickly to my back, and I imagined them on some old cargo ship, riding shadowy, storm driven waves. How did they end up there, middle of nowhere, so far from the sea. How many years, decades, have passed since they’ve been home.
Maybe I’ll go and visit them again someday, possibly as an old man, hopefully with that same misty rain stinging my eyes.