The Bridge
It's warm enough to
Go outside.
But I don't.
The bridge is outside my window.
I hold the handle of the front door,
But it doesn't open.
Standing petrified.
The bridge is next to my door.
My throat is parched.
So, I walk to the cabinet,
It mocks me.
The bridge is within my reach.
Sitting at the table, I wait.
But she doesn't return.
I know she's not coming back.
The bridge is my love.
It took me only a few minutes
To then decide,
To visit her one last time.
The bridge is next to her stone.
3
0
0