The Bridge (Reflections)

There's a bridge its rough and old and barely fit
When I walk home its there I sit
Old rocks grimy, black and grey
A bench to rest and pass a day
Listening to ripples remembering a dream
Watching the sunlight caught in the stream

Watching ripples flow through the glow
Listening to quarrels of ebb and flow
Thinking of what I forgot to buy
What was I thinking to walk right by
Looking for the dream? in row of tins
Holding my head up trying not to give in

Its not hate too complex for that
Its shock and pain and grief
The impotent rage of disbelief
Welling up
Rushing out
A grief too deep to talk about
Sitting on the bridge watching
The stream splutter and splatter
The end of the dream

Listening to the ripples
A few feet below
Desperate to get away
Any where Just go

Go home light a fire
Watch the flames dance
The ripple and glow its almost a trance
Remember the days of laughter and love
It feels long ago and now its all done

Pain rushes back
No time to remember
No chance to forget
Rage in a bubble watch the glitter and shake
Needles of memories of insult and hate
Looking down from the bridge
At the hustle and bustle of storm tossed twigs