The Crossing

He walked across the bridge, dragging her heart in his wake,

while her head inclined in another direction.

It was not the first time that she had gazed longingly, out

over the river, wondering what it would be like to cross.

He stopped and she watched as he started to reel in the string;

looking up, he smiled an invitation, incorporating promise.

Her first step was tentative, almost unknowing, unaware

and yet certain. She followed, as her heart bounded ahead.

At his first caress, she was lost – or was that found? She is unsure

but already, beyond caring; the big picture has fallen with the walls!

They communicate in foreign tongues, joined at the lip, sharing

a language, that has no vocabulary but is alive with signals.

They lie, clothed in amber discovering, re-discovering, inventing,

re-inventing. She floats on the updraft; soaring high, breathtakingly…

Three times, the storm clouds enfold them, drowning them. She gasps,

marvelling at the power of his wings and their deftness.

As the twilight falls, she rises, glowing, from the nest. She floats back

toward the bridge; he walks with her to the river and they start across.

Back on her side, she turns, to reach for him but he is not there.

Looking behind her, she spies him on the other side.

She turns to go to him but the bridge is no more. She panics.

Tears break the dam, as she watches him walk into the darkness.

Trudging homeward, she hears a noise to her rear. Turning, she notices

a string and reaching down, reels in, the two halves of her broken heart….