The Bridge


Everyone yearns for respect, love, and attention (Photo Courtesy of Gallila-Photo/208 images via Pixabay).

It was 1962

And his eyes were brilliant blue.

If he didn’t do this now,

There would be a result most foul.


She was standing in front of him

Imploring on a hopeless whim.

Perhaps one day he would know

That his life was more than a reckless show.


He was standing on the edge of the bridge now

Screaming, with sweat dripping off his brow.

Craving attention and love,

His life dangerously dangling above.


For isn’t that what we all need?

To have affection, respect, and love guaranteed?

It’s what turns monsters into saints

And causes rebels to wash off their war paint.


Those three simple words–

I love you–

Stopped him in his tracks.

He looked longingly back

At his mother one last time

And jumped off the bridge

Into the bottomless, black pit.