ACROSS THE BRIDGE
By John Thomas Tuft
With his strength now but a flaccid echo of his youth
And a smile worn ever weary by the years
All of his questions etched into the skin at his eyes
About the follies of keeping vision while living through tears.
She stands with him wondering if she can make one last try
Being the young girl who with her beauty laid him bare
Fearlessly seductive with all of her desires
Secretly coveting all of his watchful stares.
Their son stands with them looking across the bridge
Knowing that when one crosses they must cross alone
And the price of surrendering the boy to become the man
Is sharing the tears of pain and joy of departing this home.
In his hands he cradles the gift of his daughter
For whom across the bridge is but a fairy tale of wonder
A structure formed by others as a matter of convenience
Not the end of a journey that echoes like thunder.