Under The Pier

I see you playing on the beach;
Your beautiful wife and children in reach.
Laughing and joking with passerbys;
Who don’t dare look me in the eye;
As I sit here under the pier.

You leave the beach with sundrenched skin;
Only to return again;
Much later for a drink upstairs;
A lady friend meets you there. 
All of this I see and hear,
From my location under the pier.

I watch the sun begin to dive;
About the time your wife arrives;
A deep inhale as she makes her way;
Up the stairs to where you play.
A commotion I expect to here;
From the bar that sits atop the pier.

Instead I see your wife retreat;
Back down the beach on rapid feet.
She then returns, luggage in hand;
Your belongings are scattered on the sand.
Now there really is no need to fear,
As I’ll make a space for you under the pier.