Stopping on the Old North Bridge

after “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, by Robert Frost This bridge meant something in some war, some yarn of man and God and law: but I think more of her and me: what were those others fighting for? There’s so much here to feel and see, and yet it’s rubbernecker-free! I love to watch the fishes jump: they sense the serendipity! Lads do the love, dames do the dump. I can’t imagine now the crump of primitive artillery, but I remember Forrest Gump! The theater, ideally, was dark and deep: and, as for me, I’ll linger in the reverie … I’ll linger in the reverie.