Wednesday, January 16, 2008
I See the Bridge
when I was small
I rolled in sweet grass and picked daisies.
I skipped down the street
without fear of falling and ran up the stairs
to catch my breath.
The Bridge was far away.
I grew to be a young woman
and forgot about the grass and the daisies.
Life was calling me to fall in love
and I did.
A family was born and grew
and I forgot about the bridge
until one day my Father died.
I looked out the window that day and
The Bridge was getting closer.
Then my children’s little ones were born
and our family grew.
Life seemed to be starting all over again
I was so involved with new life everywhere
until one day, one misty day
while fixing my hair in the mirror
a vision floated in the background
a vision of the bridge
with footprints of those who walked across
soft impressions on the dust
And so I try to live each day with “Yes”
on my lips
making memories, making time to love
to pick the daisies that can only smile
and promise not to rush this life away
because I really do
see the Bridge.
Joanne Cucinello 2007
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