Seven Winters and the Bridge.

And then in the storm last night
Even the bridge across the river gave way
Now as I stand ashore, numb
It isn't just the bridge that's fallen array.

Not that I crossed the bridge
Ever in the past seven winters
But the warmth of the thought,
That I could,
Collapsed last night, into fritters.

Until last night,
I'd walked to the bridge a countless time
For years, almost in ritualistic pantomime.
Each time threatening to cross over
Drop my guard just a little lower
But gory flashes of our painful past
Deep inside, wouldn't cease to hover.

But now the bridge was gone
Pages of our painful past were, forever torn.
As if, somebody just severed my umbilical cord
Into a new world, I was once again, born.

As the boatmen in the evening returned
Singing in voices unfettered.
Uncannily relieved,
I turned to walk back home.
But then I heard them sing a different song
Songs about the woman who'd stood on the other bank
Every night, the last seven winters.