They met on the bridge in the frost of the dawn,
And with first glancing sight their love was born,
While she walked her dog with his arthritic gait,
He fishing, casting his line with the morning bait.
Only the two & the dog in this misty & early
morn,
Eyes meeting, slight smiles & the old dog forlorn,
She dropped her glove as she sauntered slowly by,
He picked it up & offering it back to her, said a
“Hi”.
He wooed her & danced her beneath sweet moons,
Through two chilly winters & as many warm Junes,
Then came the awful rumble of those distant drums,
Calling all young men to war & to bear nation´s
guns.
Off he went, leaving her with a kiss & a broken
heart,
She felt her
life had ended without a chance to start,
The letters came, then they dwindled to one, then none,
Then she heard he fell, was the victim of the enemy´s
gun.
She was told that he´d been shot & that now he was
dead,
Time went by, then later, another man she reluctantly
wed,
The babies came, they were loved & then her
children grew,
Widowhood arrived, the years grew wings & away they
flew.
One morning, she took yet another dog for yet another walk,
Another old dog, the only true friend to whom she could
talk,
Across the crumbling old bridge, two of them ambled &
strolled,
As the early frost of the dawn came down, softly swirled
& rolled.
She dropped her glove, retrieving it with difficulty,
she slowly bent,
But right before her stood a grey haired & a very
stooped old gent,
With a grotesque face that was burnt & scarred enough
to appall,
She knew straight away, “It´s those eyes now that I distantly
recall”.
That love rekindled was there again, it had never ever
really died,
With his injuries & ugly face, to her all had hidden
the truth & lied,
All those wasted years, in a flashing minute, melted &
flew away,
They both knew their love would never die & was now
here to stay.
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