OFF THE BLACK BRIDGE

by Deborah Beauchamp

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Her hair lifted

up to the wind,

and her white dress bellowed

like a sail

as her tiny porcelain feet

slipped through the cold dark veil.

Shadows above ran away,

away from their sins,

trying not to hear the whisper of a splash

like muted violins.

A gold locket shone weakly

in the faint moonlight,

as the crickets sang

Goodnight daughter,

Goodnight.

​

Deborah Beauchamp is a photographer and writer.

​

Reflections

1. Off The Black Bridge

2. Reassurance

3. Swan Love

4. Two Horses Blue