Bridge Person

I crossed the bridge

Hoping to find the other half.

Instead, only strange faces staring back

With gestures and voices I didn't recognize

Stuck halfway on the bridge

here and there, not belonging anywhere.

They say bridge people

can only cross under the guise

of a well dressed cowboy. A smooth talker

A fast walker

and all around

hard worker.

If you're in a hurry

Or craving company,

You might pass us,

people like me

part conman, part dreamer, part home

Have some tea

Grab some coffee We do our best to keep you cozy

Even if the rush of air

blows away all the silverware

My offsprings must learn

To live in between. To cling to a fluid personality

Free and lost at the same time.

We are bridge people.

We belong to no land.

But we are building one of our own.