There is an old wooden bridge,
where my ground ends and yours begins.
It moans when you touch it
and will splinter in self-defense.
Life conquers that old bridge
weaving muscle under each board.
Movement birthing,
with great force.
Mending distance,
perceived as lost.
Left in corners of minds
with forgiveness, yet to be crossed.
An empty waiting bridge,
till you decide to let it all be.
You are grounded to one fragile end,
and on the other —
waits me.
Excellent job Jess, you harnessed that metaphor completely. Really enjoyed. Thanks
Thank you Fred. xoxoxo
Wonderful jessy 🙂
Thanks love! 🙂
I love Waiting Bridges. The title has that action, weight, before I read the first line. The oppositional forces of two, waiting. (I love the photo too.)
Thank you for stopping by and reading Justin. I am glad you enjoyed it 🙂
lovely…could feel the tension in that last stanza. Thanks, Jessica.
Thank you for reading Dolly! 🙂
felt the movement and tension throughout Jess – as ever masterly created – big love Lib x
not sure if last comment registered Jess,
‘wooden bridge ‘moans’ – felt the weight and the tension
and movement – wanting to move forward beyond – as usual many superb layers Jess – big love Lib
Thank you for both your comments 🙂 Thank you for reading. xoxo
That was super great Jess, the bridge looks old but it has the meaning behind on it. I love the poem and you made it very well as always. Thanks for sharing this!