The Underside of Bridges


If I am to come back as man-made stuff,

Would that I be the underbelly of a bridge.

Bathing in reflected moonlight of an evening,

Basking in warm, refracted sun in the day.

I would wrap the winter darkness around my stony self.

Let me see the joyous faces ambling along.

Peering at the light, or loving the sounds.

Feel lovers simultaneous steps as they linger.

The thud of runner’s steps.

The solitary walker.



Most of all though, let me see the flowing water.

Trickle to torrent, all the livelong day.

Fill my eyes with flowing.



Copyright Tom Tide 2017

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