The water lapped against the stones.
The rain fell in whispers into the dark river.
And somehow,
The ordinary materials
that allowed the bridge to exist,
The old cement, and older steel,
Managed to block out the sounds.
Protect me from their intrusion.
And comfort me against my realities.
The echo of water drops.
The wind flying around my face.
The peace they offered.
Were the greatest gifts
My home gave to me.
The way the cavern,
Made my voice soar.
As though it was being lifted skyward,
By the swirling breeze.
The way the rush of the water,
Hid the sounds of my sorrows.
It would hold me for hours
and shelter me from pain.
Oh how I miss my friend.
My silent, weathered friend.
My friend of cement and steel.
