Distance Holds No Separation

I cross this wide river
every time I come to you.
And again, when I leave.
There is no other way,

~for distance holds no separation~

when I follow this course,
past and present become one.
I find consolation in that,
every time I cross this bridge.

A Puente, this poem is my response to Poetics: Build a Bridge, the prompt from Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. The first and third stanzas of a puente convey a different element or feeling, but they have an equal number of lines, with that number being the writer’s choice. The one-line middle stanza, set off with a tilde (~) at each end, is the puente (Spanish for bridge). It functions as the ending for the last line of the first stanza AND as the beginning for the first line of the third stanza. Rhyme is optional.

Since moving to Missouri, I’ve made the trip back to New York to visit family many times. Being retired, I pretty much have an open calendar. My wife does not, so many times I’ve driven the round-trip solo. Each time, I cross the Mississippi River. The Stan Span (Stan Musial Veterans Memorial Bridge), named after St. Louis Cardinal baseball great Stan Musial, is on Interstate 70, one of the routes out of St. Louis.

 

~ Day 27 ~