Our Bridge

I meet you at our bridge

upon the year's conclusion

to watch you burn the ropes:

the flame; a dark illusion.

It didn't have to be like this.

You could have stayed my friend

but now you turn your back on me

I see that it's the end.

The boards have crumbled,

the nails are full of rust,

our bridge is tumbling down

along with all our trust.

We each receive one strand of twine

two feet long and burned pitch black.

I watch as you toss yours away

and I know there's no going back.

1-14-13