Bridge between two worlds
You and me, our two worlds, connected by an old bridge
You and me, our two worlds
One old and in chaos, dark mist everywhere.
The other beautiful and serene, flowers and butterflies,
They never intended to collapse into one another.
I remember the first time I saw you,
You were cycling across a canal,
Over an old bridge, so old that it creaked underneath your wheels.
When we stepped upon the wooden planks
That had been painted white long ago ,
they were green now, mould had taken over.
The water splashed below, against the rocks
As it started raining, tiny droplets kissing us gently,
Your skirt fluttered in air, as you rode past my being
I remember turning around, an apparition you were gone.
I came to the bridge the next day,
And the next, and the next one after, hoping,
That I would run into you again, my eyes sore
from the watching.
To have another glimpse of you.
One day, we ran into each other,
When you rode past me, not even a notice,
Which went on for a few days,
Until one day, I decided I had enough of being overlooked,
And I had to talk to you, I asked you out
And to my bewilderment you said yes!
We crossed the bridge again,
When I told you it was here that I saw you first.
You said you liked the bridge so much because of its age,
Yet so beautiful, perhaps because the weather had re-painted it
Rather than breaking it down.
I was a lone soul until then, wandering across the world
No end in horizon, no goals in mind.
You loved art and literature, writing your book,
We shared nothing at all, yet so much.
Until one day I was pushed back into the world
I came out of, searching for you.
You said it no longer worked between us.
My heart was broken into a thousand pieces,
When I walked by one day, I noticed,
The bridge too had broke and collapsed into the river below.
Sriteja Reddy 2019