The Burning Bridge

Your lungs shudder at the groan of blackened wood cracking apart, breath short with smoke and ember. The dismay of fire has taken away your forest. It comes for the bridge—old timber over the creek evaporating—inevitable flame splitting the grain, severance, red glow horror and orange night sky.

 The memory of summers is like life flashing. Your framework bridge crosses the cool creek through forests that were home, childhood, and love. Days at play. Nights snuck out to it, your first kiss on its railing. They carved your name there, by where the water grasses swayed.

 The bridge collapses, burning, failures and entrapments of heat.