It was just an underpass,
Rusted,
From a long defunct railway line,
On an obscure dirt track,
Which had at one time,
Been the main road,
To Nimmitabel.
But many winters ago,
Almost fifteen,
This was where we had held each other,
For the first time,
After a long time parted,
At a particularly crucial stage in our,
Relatively young relationship.
Here under this bridge,
On that cold, dark, drizzly night,
When I was shivering,
With stress and trepidation,
At the consequences,
I knew would inevitably follow,
You held onto me.
Just as you did today.
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