The bridge between our hearts
as fine as spiderweb threads
Along it soldiers march
workers trample, children skip
with balls of light
cows graze, horses gallop


Between our hearts the bridge
is held by the Tree of Life
sung over by rain
its roots tangled
in the molten centre of
Mother Earth

Below it gurgles River of Intentions
on the banks rural maidens
with feathers in their plaits
play reed flutes
lilies grow in its crevices
whilst dragonflies sweetly hum

African mothers sing rhymes
whilst suckling fat babies
spiders delicately continue
to weave below trodden cobbles

I longingly listen for the trample
of your brown leather boots on
the other side of the bridge !