The Bridge

A poem of questions

The Bridge

Day’s dawn ascends slowly
With the color of a dying ember,
Still the gentle warmth surrounds me
This first day of September.
Expectation fills my thoughts,
Through me runs a tremor,
A feeling I haven’t had
For as long as I can remember.
Before I can understand it
This feeling has gone,
It has disappeared so quickly
As has the morning’s dawn.
Will it ever come again
And will it take as long?
If ever I come back here
Would I find it just as strong?
Can I build a bridge
Between the sea and sky?
Can I somehow cross this divide
And find this place before I die?
Light fills the morning sky,
Activity of life starts as I leave.
The fractured between time is done,
As light takes hold I grieve,
Knowing that the coming day’s prospect
Many people are anxious to receive,
But I mourn the dawn’s brief passing
The only time I let myself I believe.