I started it one golden day
When I dropped the match on the bridge.
Picked it up—too late—
As wildfire spread through the cables.
My heart watered an apology,
Cooling cherry-stained metal back to silver.
I swallowed gritty pride,
Polishing my mouth’s acid tarnish.
My unskilled hands shakily
Began mending our sharp iron bars.
The metal slowly tempered—
A picture framed in silver once again.
But soon a scratch revealed
Scorch marks beneath fool’s gold plating.
The bridge groaned, shifting,
And I held on while rust ate me alive.
I welded until my iron will twisted,
But amenity became a silver-lined myth.
Earth saw the corrosion,
But eternity shall repair us in purest gold.