Last One Standing
by Laurie Kolp

The rickety beach cabin
stands along Highway 87.
Behind it, old folk
pine away the time
playing dominos
on a sand-worn
picnic table,
the gulf coast closer
to the porch
than it was before
hurricanes Rita and Ike
caused so much erosion.
No longer the last row
and now alone,
the yellow cabin they call
Golden Pillar needs
a new coat of paint
and perhaps
a few updates,
but the lifelong friends
don’t seem to notice.

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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