Over The Bridge

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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. 

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