to you, standing on the other side of the bridge,
where traces still linger,
where once, there was us.
the water beneath our feet is no longer gentle,
it carries away promises left unfinished.
i stand on this side, watching the sunset fall,
listening to the sighs of wind, of clouds, of sky.
i don’t know—
on your side of the bridge, has the mist settled yet?
are your small shoulders waiting for the rain?
a sudden rain—
not soft, not merely dripping,
nor loud and pouring,
but
shattering,
aching,
before fate…
before the turns we both could not refuse.
the distance now is no longer just a narrow bridge,
but thousands of miles,
tens of thousands,
hundreds of thousands—
measured in the vast emptiness between two lives.
i will turn away, leaving you your own sky,
so you can walk toward the dawn unburdened.
don’t grieve a missed meeting—
let the evening wind carry it all away.
a nameless poem, i send back into time,
buried deep beneath the river that flows forever.
no one to receive it, no one left waiting.
a blink—
and a thousand autumns pass.