Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Bridge at Flatline / Adam Lynn

The Bridge at Flatline

Time and worms have turned their skulls to soil.
You mumble, "There are no good wars...", shoulders
slumped against a white stone in October.
You stare — as the red and yellow maples
drop their leaves. They pile up like the dead.
Sixty years of life trampled underfoot,
but you're still 19, and marching towards Arnhem
lost in the cemetery of your mind.
Yes, your generation is passing fast,
good men, disappearing under time's blizzard.
And soon, too soon, no one will remember.
All of your friends are on the other side.
You wonder — is there a bridge at flatline,
and if there is, is it a bridge too far?

Adam Lynn
March 2010
New York, U.S.A.

From the blog:

Let the Echo Decide

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

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