Bridge between Worlds
sheltered by the golden branches – waiting.
Beyond the rushes and worn wooden planks,
shallows, running cold and clear, entice;
sunlight reflects, warming the rocks and stones,
slippery green moss welcomes the water,
cools the peaceful setting soaked in daydreams.
She can’t see past the edge, lost in tall grass.
Imagination chooses a meadow;
a soft blanket of clover and flowers
on which to rest. Logic chooses a path
much steeper, treacherous to maneuver.
Both hope and curiosity move her
forward when caution brings hesitation.
The bridge between these worlds crosses a stream
neither is able to negotiate.
Words no longer suffice to close the gap.