Click here to hear the poet read his verse:
under the bridge
the sunlight dances in the stream
like your sparkling eyes that so bewitch
the springtime sky is golden blue
and the shy moon hides under the bridge
the trees are slowly turning green
the hills of Provence loom on high
near-barren rocks wear thorny gorse
bringing bitter tears to lovelorn eye
for memories are all that’s left
as biting as a hawk’s shrill cry
it looks down on unwary prey
choosing the heart that is next to die
the dark clouds cover heaven’s light
the thunder screams at fever pitch
and your sweet love flows swift away
like tear-strewn water under the bridge
Laissons l’eau qui coule sous les ponts , emporté nos amours défunts!
Bon conseil, Corine, ce qui est passé est passé.
“shy moon hides under the bridge” lovely image there.
I caught the train at Heartbreak junction once more and wept all the way home.
When I saw the moon I took the photo and the words just followed naturally.
No need for tears, Em, it’s just a poem!
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Sure, but I still keep a hanky nearby on Saturdays. Sniffles.