King's Bridge Poem by Les Littleford

From the river it peaks at you,
peering around the modern, practical, concrete highway.
But from the Gorge
its arches form the perfect backdrop.

White and rustic red,
colours of a bygone, now resurrected, era
cushion the eye
and frame the mouth with beauteous simplicity.

Grained archival photographs
reveal twenties clad divers in graceful symmetry,
whilst in more turbulent times
whole trees, dead cows and rocks roared beneath.

Today it stands an icon.
The hourly tourist cruiser hoots in salute,
and above, the cottage, it’s sister landmark,
looks down in tender care.

Traffic roars past on the concrete bypass,
but the bridge remains a tourist highway
as hundreds,
daily,
pause.