He was standing on the bridge when I first saw him,
Eyes focused on the river below,
The rushing water was deep and angry,
Carrying wisps and leaves in its turbulent flow.
I began to wonder what his mind was thinking
As he surveyed the scene with transfixed gaze
Was he reflecting on the torrents beauty.
As it raced to the sea in foam and waves.
Or, what if he was contemplating self –destruction,
To part this life, from distress or pain,
Perhaps his employment had ended abruptly,
Family pressures, couldn’t bear the strain,
Maybe a lady had declined his proposal,
Whom he thought one day would be his bride,
Now life without her would hold no meaning,
Has she broken his heart, or bruised his pride.
My mind was sprinting backwards and forwards
Imagining events with his every move
Most likely the man was a creative writer,
Seeking solitude and inspiration, his work to improve.
Unexpectedly he turned, then walked away slowly
He was humming a tune, I scarcely could hear
Suddenly he stopped, by the hawthorn hedgerow
And from underneath lifted his fishing gear.