“The Bridge at Dusk”
They met where the old stone path
dropped toward the river bend,
light thinning, air sharp enough
to make every breath feel earned.
Neither had planned its timing.
Both arrived as if summoned
by the same stubborn thought.
“So you came.”
The voice carried more grit than welcome.
“Aye. Someone had to.”
A shrug, half‑defensive, half‑defiant.
Wind pressed between them
like a third participant
waiting for the first misstep.
They stood there, two figures
carved by long weather,
each convinced the other
had stepped away first.
Old loyalty sat heavy
beneath their ribs,
but pride held the reins.
“You vanished.”
“You stopped asking.”
“You pushed.”
“You pulled.”
The quarrel rose quick,
a flare of flint on flint.
Hands gestured sharply,
boots scraped gravel,
and for a moment it seemed
they might walk off
in opposite directions
and let the river claim the rest.
But something shifted.
Not softened — shifted.
A realisation landing
like a stone in the gut:
they were fighting
but why they still care?
One exhaled first.
A long, tired breath
that wasn’t quite surrender
but wasn’t defiance either.
“I thought you’d turned away.”
The words came low,
as if dragged from a locked drawer.
“I thought the same of you.”
A reply without armour.
The wind eased.
The river kept its steady run.
They stood shoulder to shoulder,
not touching, not speaking,
just letting the quiet
do what their pride could not.
When they finally walked back
toward the path,
nothing grand was declared.
No speeches.
No tidy moral.
Just two figures moving
in the same direction again,
step for step,
letting the evening
carry the rest.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 28th, 2025 04:59
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
Eloquent writing here my friend. Poetry indeed saying without saying, knowing without being told, surrender under the flag of pride where war is avoided and both emerge victor's in their own mind. A fave
Thank you so much, Soren 🙏🏻🕊️
Most welcome Cryptic
My friend, what patient, weathered, and deeply human write! The grit in the dialogue, the wind as witness, the refusal to offer a tidy moral…all of it trusts the reader. Walking in the same direction again without ceremony feels like the truest ending possible. Beautiful work. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks, Tittu, for sharing agreement on the ending. 🙏🏻🕊️
You are most welcome! It really was perfect!
well written.My friend.
Thanks dear Friendship 🙏🏻🕊️
Good write A. That you on that bridge there? Can't see a lot - bit dusky! lol.
Waiting for you and Fido to walk past! 🕊️🙏🏻
Wonderful words Rik, problems can often be solved by meeting with one another an a bridge.
Andy
And an exchange of prisoners is sometimes useful in such negotiations. 🕊️🙏
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