“Past False Bridges” We Write Poems #182-What Waits on the Other Side

He gives me whispers in tall trees,
he gives me beauty amidst destruction,
he gives me dreams with the fevered moon.

I walk ahead of the wind
that whips a perpendicular
phase when he asks me to slow down.

I’m forever rushing past false bridges
where the road meets the curb,
every sound an execution
exalting down
as cars pass,
lights change,
signals lift from my shoulders.

I turn and grasp his hand,
my friend, as across the river we walk.

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12 responses to ““Past False Bridges” We Write Poems #182-What Waits on the Other Side

  1. nice…really like your touch in the first stanza..there is a very nice subtle intimacy in them….whole thing made me smile…what a friend eh? smiles.

  2. Absolutely wonderful! Wow! That last stanza is a gift. Thanks so much for sharing this wonderful poem, Pamela.

  3. Thanks so much, Annell.

  4. A delightful poem, Pamela.

  5. Pamela, this is gorgeous. I enjoyed this so much!

  6. Who’s your friend? He seems like an intriguing fellow. And what gifts, too!

    -Nicole

I appreciate all comments.

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