rosepoems

I was walking across a bridge
today, and thought of you,
because eight years ago,
perhaps on this very day,
our footsteps aimlessly traced
the same path to this lonely bridge
in the woods.

Although the arch underfoot
carrying me over the creek below
is the same as it was
on that day eight years ago,
everything else is different.

It’s strange how eight years
can double a tree in size
or overgrow a foot-worn path
be the lifetime of a blue bird
and completely dull emotions
that seemed so all-consuming
eight short years ago.

I wonder if you walked the same path
would our conversation on that day
replay in your mind?
Or would you simply hear a whispered song
of a bluebird landing on the bridge’s edge.