Our sultry summer days are swallowing

Their self esteem. The climate falls away-

We tumble down to knees conditioned.

Coarse letters flee concealment recklessly

While bridges doctored kindly do cheat me

Of safety in deep sleep and needed dreams

Wood slowly crumbles under the weight of

our lagging feet. I see scarlet leaves dance

shy in building breeze. I swear they laugh at

promises I did not keep. Wind pushes

and shoves us back to the beginning where

you and I exchange stale stories under

oak trees. Tongues more tied than free spoke silent,

Answering questions- we provoke distressed

memories. With the word exchange chipping

my inquisitive teeth, I run dry of

curiosity. Now, I wonder, “ Do

bridges feel the same to us all?” Brittle

And briefly, they sway in the autumn like
migrating humming birds just flying through.

When torn away to tend to something new,

They seem to fall and break, unlike statues.

Is the water too deep for you to cross

alone? Will you drown when our bridges are

gone? Water seeps into my weary lungs

and I know, bridges are but ashes before

gasoline- I let some stay but burn those

lacking the emotional entity we need.