Bridge
Chocolate pretzels, evening tea
and poetry – the bridge
I’ve been crossing on Mondays.
I remember dreading the first day
of the week, not anymore.
Oh, how time turns tables
into stages. I can’t wait to dance
with you. We’ll take turns leading
by example. The bridge I wish
they all crossed. A word at a time.
La poesía es un puente de cortesía.
Puentesía – as I’d like to spell it out.
Note: This poem was written on the occasion of World Poetry Day and it’s a contribution to the Monthly #WordPrompt.
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