The Bridge Poem by Joe Corbett

As I walked, down the road
to a place, I've been before

the wind whistled, through the trees
leaves on the ground, seemed to follow me

ever closer, to a hidden place
winters dryness, chaffed my face

sound of my boots, clomped the ground
jacket lined and filled with down

on my head, a knitted cap
around my neck, a scarfed was wrapped

my zipper made, a rhythmic click
my pants of wool, were long and thick

the bridge came, ever nearer
the sight I saw, ever clearer

a woman stood, on the deck
her clothes were torn, her hair a wreck

her eyes starred, straight ahead
her cheeks were round, cold and red

the look I new, as I had had
cross between, mad and mad

I stopped and look in her eyes
Without a word, I asked her why

She didn't need, to answer me
pain she felt, I could see

Her lover he, had sent her here
consumed by lies, lust and fear

nows the time, to make our stand
together she, and I joined hands

things not gone, as planned today
without a word, we walked away.