On the way home, out of sheer necessity,
Geoffrey crossed the bridge between
his place of work, and his small parked car.

On Tuesday, it had remained dark,
hence it was gloomy indeed
when he crossed in the usual manner.

The young runners approached at pace,
cantering towards him, on the bridge,
potentially, he assessed, blocking his path.

Unaccustomed to this conundrum,
Geoffrey panicked, and climbed quickly
onto the wall, breaking his routine.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

3 thoughts on “Bridge”

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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