The bridge that connects,
you to me, is often shrouded in mist.
At times we see, and then we don’t
our loved ones gently kissed.
But shrouded though, in mist you are,
And hidden from my view
I know the bridge is there to cross
Life’s final and lasting Truth.
Just knowing that the bridge is there
that our two worlds don’t part
catching just a hasty glimpse,
restores my aching heart.
Klundert, 1993 – copyright Lysanne Sizoo