Mid-life

she wakes up at 3 a.m.
with a nightmare: she is on a bridge
below her the flood, waters raging
carrying driftwood, some houses, people calling for her,
deaf she moves on to the other side
on white gown less the bouquet
a man in black suit waits for her
the water rises and then all the screams are gone

the man becomes a mist
her hands tremble
her diamond ring falls to the water below

the water rises up to her waist
she shouts for help
there is no boat and the other side dissolves with the man
a mist covers her

she closes her eyes and then she is taken away by some hands.
she wakes up grasping for breath.

her pillow is wet with tears.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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