Crossing

I passed that trail along the brook
that led us to a wooded nook
where giddily we braved the brush
to savor that forbidden rush
our sapling hearts mistook for love
which slowly waned with every shove.
Beside that stream we knew no shame
enraptured by desire’s flame
as willful youth swam unabated
a new condition complicated
but then the term was terminated
and my regrets were so belated
there was no way to not have hated
me.


The tinkle of that forlorn creek
which flows beneath the bridge I seek
reminds me as it nears the sea
how short some spans were meant to be.