Bridges of existing

I remember my bridge- sitting in evenings , hair blown, smells indistinct, kids playing on the sand below, buffaloes on way home. There was another bridge but I was not there above the water and the speedy cars passing like nobody’s business but it was like that.

Bridges existed and one had better be there. The beautiful bridge did exist and so did she. A beautiful woman, her hair blown, her body turned a figment, but the mind continued in sheaves of random prose , tattered verse .There are bridges of existing, hers and mine.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s