Eric Ashford Poet Free verse

Bridges

Eventually they all fail,
especially the ones made of blood
and ambition.

Then there is this:
there are trains pulling ghosts,
the drowned and crushed
reflected in a puddle of sky.

Despite the sustaining support,
the perseverance,
eventually they all fly too far,
span downward, stretch beyond
rivets, nuts, and bolts.

Then there is this:
bridges rise above the engineered,
the aeronautics of sky and earth
plant new ideas.

Imagination finds
other ways to cross over the gaps,
most have left,
on the other side of distance.

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