Over The Bridge
In a cloud of smoke, Rodriguez staggers in In between a wine bottle and a cocotte Points at the door, shuts to her face. Maria gathers what is left of her shattered pieces With a weathered heart Under the rain, inconsolably she walks. At a creaky wooden aged bridge, Maria stares at a lazy tranquil water flow Marvels if her mind might be right. Her heart would have a share in the flowing waters tranquility, and it would all be done Maria thinks to herself, once over the bridge.