THE BRIDGE OF LOVE
(Vo Thi Nhu Mai)

Frankfurt leans into the late light
the old musician bending his music
into the soft edges of the day

Gold threads drift from his instrument
touching the locks on the bridge
each one is a sleeping heartbeat

Lovers wander past, hand in hand
Their eyes lit with their passionate fire
The wind moves gently around them
as if guarding such precious moments

But later there seems a sudden ending
The locksmith lifts each broken promise
sun flashing on his blade of mercy
And the girls who come to him
walk away lighter
as if a thorn had finally left her skin