She crossed my paper bridge today (yes,
The one I cross into happiness)
A woman some sixty or so years old,
With bare feet, bitten by the cold.
We met each other and stayed there a while, just so.
- I, just because I had nowhere else to go-
And she spoke as if to me and herself, not of news,
But of bread, of wood, of shoes.
My paper bridge, I built it -it's true-
When not just the sky, but my eyes turned blue,
And the sun turned into a golden wheel
Along a path that lead to my heels.
I kept thinking about a house and a bed
And golden days and starburst nights,
Kept thinking about a husband and child
Brown summers' shades, and green springs' light.
I kept thinking about a road and a letter,
A wave-laden sea and a ship that shone,
Kept thinking about the songs of the train
And night-blue sailors from parts unknown.
But I didn't think of shoes for this woman sixty years old
And today she and I stood, chatting here, just so,
She about shoes, since her bones were bitten cold
And I, just because I had nowhere else to go.