We both had built this bridge over the current of time
On pebbles of my initial swervings, your killing eye lashes,
With bricks of my hopes, your pride (like a saplings'),
Set cautiously like chosen soldiers for a war,
Who, when dead, would let their maker walk on them,
To the other side, reminding of old courtship.

We met on this bridge's mid many a time,
Traveling half on either side, the sides we trusted,
You wouldn't venture on my side; though I wished to,
I wouldn't venture in yours, like two arrows
That cut in mid air, and drop dead, broken, bruised.

Oft beneath us, the river would swell up, supping all
That crossed its way, the huts where loners slept,
The cramped familes' fight like wingless bees,
And the bridges that weren't as ready as ours.
When they fell, we heard little cries free to air,
That had once glued their bridges together.

Those were the days we watched the decay,
On each promised sunset, clasping to our bridge
Assuring it was strong enough to sustain..
Standing exactly on its mid, your hand in mine,
A bridge inside our bridge, that made us feel safer.

.....
Years have flown, the river has lent itself
To a tributary, weakened its wrath by half,
Neighbors with broken bridges turned old hermits,
And those who sank, never found love again.

Things have hardly changed for us,
Except, I venture all over our bridge,
Laying aside the divide of your or mine,
Fixing small cracks grown over time,
By squeezing my outcast, worn out wishes of hope,
Making the bridge temporarily my own,
Till your return.