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Open Poetry #46
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my bridge and yours
| Open Poetry #46 |
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my bridge and yours |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
I watched the bridge widen Much like a coat opening its flaps as the winter approaches. I saw my feet touch the corner of the bridge like a white widow does when her tears slowly fall, contemplating whether the deep sea is softer than the world around her. The bridge widened; the doves swung their wings Through the clouds, through the parting of the sky that turned into the sun Like a small window into the soul of the eastern sky. I watched the blue-collar men push their hands into the dirt Until their nails hardened with black around them. The bridge was gifted with a wind that touched the high-rise buidings, Touched the dark oval windows with its gift from the sky. Where the Indians use to walk around the land with their chins held high, And the grass still had meaning amongst the farmers that grew them. Where the red plaid shirts of the schoolchildren ran in circles, Rejoicing to the quiet bells of the sky. It was here above the bridge, where once upon the frosty night, Upon the untarnished land that grew with light, That the land still felt like our own creation. |
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| © Copyright 2010 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Bastet Member
since 2010-05-07
Posts 246 |
An evocative and very visual poem where the bridge is nearly personified. The "white widows" are a surprise. The only place I know where widows wear white is in India. |
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