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In the summer I would go anywhere and do anything to cross bridges.
Bridges from one side to the next, here to there and away?
A strange almost pointless need. To span the air without wings?
How whimsical a thought.
But still not an answer.
And then one day some time after I forgot.
I crossed a bridge and on the other side,
A fragment.
A flitting fragile piece in the wind.
An object?
A name?
How could I know?
Then I come here. Where I always came.
Didn't I?
Where new bridges number without count.
Or are they old bridges?
And despite years of wandering I think it's here.
Stuck in my head yearning for solutions..
Now I come to you for answers.
Fill in the blanks.
To remember something so memorable.
That I can't quite place.
In the drift.
In a place I can't quite recall.
Gentle leaves floating on the breeze.