The Bridge

I walk towards you, as you stand waiting at the center of the bridge. Beneath my feet, aged timbers span the churning river below. With each step I see you more clearly. My eyes search out the younger you, that wild child with chestnut hair. I can still remember your pigtails and ear to ear grin. Back then, laugher was such an important part of us. Somehow, thankfully, from the start, we just seemed to get each other. As I approach, I see both of us in your eyes. The twinkles hidden within the wrinkles, laugh lines, the evidence of our pleasure. As you open your arms we embrace. For a moment, time relinquishes its dominion. Two friends once again, occupy a sacred moment, grieving and celebrating the passage of everything. We wonder, what if anything can be reclaimed? Together, wishing yesterday forward! The bridge groans under our childlike expectations. In a split second everything changes! We place young hands on the bridges revived splendor. Amazed, we look over its railing. There below, the river reverses upon itself, flowing backwards until it stops. The glass like surface reflects back images of our younger selves. I look back into your eyes with wonder, how is this possible? Once again we are both twelve, standing on this baby blue bridge. You too look shocked, What is going through your mind? Age has loosed its shackles! The years reeling back like hands on a sprung clock. I think my eyes deceive me, but it is you. A cowlick sticking straight up and you have that crooked smile. Your blue eyes playfully daring me, to follow you into a new adventure. This adventure occupies the reaches of our imaginations! Your hand rests beside mine, it feels familiar and safe. How I have missed you my friend, missed your voice, your exuberance for life. As twilight lingers and the stillness of time settles about us, I see us as we were. Long ago we said our goodbyes on this very bridge. We promised one day we would return to this very spot. A pinky swear magical promise! Then we waded into our unknown years. The river of time split us in two directions. Many escapades, broken hearts, triumphs and horrors. Somehow, we grasped at the memories of a forever friendship. A phone call, a transformative whisper, beckoning us to return, to a bridge, to a time, to a feeling. Twelve years old, hands clasped and swinging. We skip to the beat of our own accordians. . Together we dare life to give its all. We are ready once again, for skinned knees, adventure, perhaps some heartache, but mostly belly laughter and ear to ear grins! Written in collaboration with Monterey Sirak. It is a pleasure to work with such a talented poet.