Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The Bridge

Jenny held his hand
Beige eyes like
Brown Sugar
In molasses cookies
 
The kind with the raisin on the top.
 
Martin held her hand
Blue eyes
Like the water under
The cobblestone bridge
 
The kind with fish that ripple the surface.
 
Their eyes met for a moment
And they could see truths
Black and white like
Piano keys in under skilled hands
 
The kind you would experience in a church service.
 
Martin turned his back on her
And looked into his spouses eyes
When he looked back to Jenny
She had her arm around her spouses shoulder
 
The kind of love that is a whisper in a dark room
 
Only I, standing in the middle
Of the cobblestone bridge
In meditation, in listening
Heard that they were soul mates
 
The kind that will find their way back to each other; even in this lifetime.

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