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Of Bridges and Brides Bridges crossed, life’s unraveling, gives me cause to. . . a new bride, a new bridge. Holy matrimony, come again now? Somehow, yes, somehow. When first we met on the field of words, my imaginings, justified they were. Crossing midnight rivers, fording streams, building new bridges, old ones left behind. Across the miles your face, so kind, as the Bluegrass waves to me, goodbye, I beg, hold my hand, help me cross the final span, a new beginning for you, a new life for me. April flowers ring, violins will sing, mystical fields we bridge across. Words we say, images we capture, leads me to my bridge, my rapture. |
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