The Bridge At Argenteuil - With Apologies To Claude Monet

I could've gone to Holland. I could've gone to Spain. I could've gone to Denmark. I could've gone insane, But instead I came here, where the river mirrors life In a fractured, dream-like way on this brilliant summer day By the Bridge at Argenteuil. A couple in a rowboat, a woman and a man, In silent conversation discussing future plans, But they’re frozen in time. No one’s getting anywhere. And I feel the same dismay, as though rooted in the clay By the Bridge at Argenteuil. It isn’t for the distance. The water's not that wide. The house in which I lived is standing on the other side. I just can't get across. There's a darkness shrouds my soul, Wounds me more than words can say, lost in shades of charcoal gray By the Bridge at Argenteuil. With hands in empty pockets, holding on to all that’s mine. My best possessions taken, the rest just left behind. And the cold, dancing light that’s reflected on the Seine Mocks the feelings I betray, with its shimmering ballet By the Bridge at Argenteuil. It strides across the river on pilings made of stone. Without the means to burn it, I loiter here alone At this shrine to the past and to all I gave away, But I didn’t come to pray. I’m a pilgrim gone astray By the Bridge at Argenteuil.