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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.
Copyright ©
Michael Coy
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