Bridge of Dawn ’Tween Two Shores
Where river’s breath exhales between the sands,
There lies—a span suspended, graced with lace—
A bridge that joins two worlds with trembling hands.
Two hearts once linked by Fate’s unsure design,
Beneath the argent gleam of twilight’s mood,
Now torn apart by Time’s relentless line,
Their whispers lost amid the solitude.
O Amants! Bound by threads of golden light,
Yet stretched asunder by the cruel demand,
That centuries shall fall as shards of night,
And separate the touch of hand from hand.
She dwelt upon the eastern, emerald shore,
Where willows wept their silver tears at dawn,
He lingered ‘neath the western cliffs’ bold roar,
Their mutual star extinguished, all but drawn.
The river’s voice was soft—a silken hymn,
It sang of hope that roots beneath despair,
Of lovers’ hearts enwound yet grown so dim,
Still beating fiercely through the heavy air.
But time, that vast and ancient sculptor grim,
Had carved the distance deep between their souls;
Yet love persisted—faint, but not too dim—
A beacon bright that flouted time’s controls.
In dreams, she walked upon that slender arc,
Barefoot upon the beams soaked with the dew,
Where sunlight fractured through the morning’s dark,
And painted gold the waves’ unending blue.
Her heart would whisper tales to evening’s sigh,
“Come to me, come, through years and swirling mists!”
And with each dawn, beneath the wide, kind sky,
She summoned courage clad in wistful trysts.
He, too, would gaze across the flowing glass,
His rugged hands clenched ’neath the steely moon,
Recall the touch that Time refused to pass,
Memories a haunting, endless tune.
“Though ages stretch their arms in cold disdain,
Your light remains my ever-fixed star bright;
Across the chasms wrought by fate’s cruel reign,
I cross in spirit through the cloak of night.”
Amid the reeds, where fireflies began their dance,
A silent pact was forged in shadows old—
That hope, though fragile, shall not miss its chance,
Nor bend beneath the weight of winters cold.
For what is life but trials set on a stage,
Each act a wreath of sorrow intertwined?
Yet tender love, the eternal sage,
Breathes courage into the fragile human mind.
The bridge itself—a vessel of desire,
Its arches traced in hues of amethyst,
Seemed to respond to their unyielding fire,
Awakening from its ancient, silent tryst.
Leaf and stone and beam began to whisper soft,
A language only hearts apart may speak;
And Time, the tyrant, softened, cast aloft
The heavy chains that bound them bleak and weak.
A night arrived where stars conspired to gleam,
Beneath a vault of blue serene and clear,
When destiny unraveled Time’s harsh seam,
And left no space between their worlds severe.
Upon the bridge—both shores now reconciled—
They met as dawn broke through the sable sky,
Two souls, once lost, now by love’s hand beguiled,
Embracing in a moment none could deny.
Her voice, a fragile wind through trembling leaves:
“Beloved, years have forged but flames anew.”
His grasp, a fortress that the heart believes,
“To find you once more—life’s richest due.”
No sun nor moon could cast a brighter light,
Nor stir the river in a fairer dance;
Two halves made perfect in the waking night,
Their union sealed by time’s abated trance.
Thus in that haven ‘neath the gentle sky,
Where water kissed the banks in tender rhyme,
Two lovers stood, no more to say goodbye—
Their hearts untouched by vast and ceaseless Time.
And hope, eternal, like the river’s flow,
Sings ever on through all of human plight;
That even when the winds of fortune blow,
Love bridges days and cloaks the endless night.
