The Burnt Bridge
Looking across the gulf between you and me;
Remembering those days when we were friends.
Today, not even thinking about blame or fault;
Just missing you, as I look across the burnt bridge.
I decide that bygones are bygones, the past is past;
Choosing to no longer hold on to that bitter grudge.
I grab some lumber, some nails, and my trusty hammer;
And begin to repair and rebuild the burnt bridge.
My hammer echoes in that chasm of separation;
With each hammer fall, my hope is restored.
Slowly, methodically, I build as you watch;
Discerning my motives as I repair the burnt bridge.
Midway across, I stop; now I wait on your action;
Will you receive this gesture of peace?
You stand; the shared sun warming our hearts;
I see you walk briskly away from the burnt bridge.
Time passes, the span half built; mocking my intent.
I walk back to my side, return to life; yet I have hope.
Early one morning, I hear the echo of a hammer singing;
You have began construction, repairing the burnt bridge.
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades