Last Bridge Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Last Bridge



They come to me phrases,
crying out to be whole

One last bridge to cross,
no fare for the toll

Prodigal wanderers,
not spoken or heard

My breath used as payment,
—conveying their words

(Villaova Pennsylvania: June,2017)

Saturday, June 3, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: words
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success