On The Bridge.

On The Bridge.
By Jack Gates

I saw you standing there, on the bridge,
your haloed hair blowing askew in the summer breeze.
Your skirt, clinging to your thighs, causing a ridge,
breathless, I tried to control the tremble in my knees.

It's said that beauty is only skin deep,
It is obvious their eyes have not feasted on you, my love.
The picture of you on the bridge, is in my heart to keep,
until my spirit rises into the Heavens above.

I stood there watching you for a long, long while,
my heart reaching out to you, full of love and compassion.
Searching deep into your very soul, for just a smile,
a tiny glimmer of your love, or just a spark of passion.

Your composure was so serene, so straight laced,
tormenting me, dousing my ardent burning fire.
Then, suddenly towards me, you about faced,
your radiance, kindled in me, a passionate desire.

It was only fleeting, then it was gone,
I tried to speak, but then, I had nothing to say.
It seems, my torment, must go on and on,
because it was then, you turned, and walked away.