affection

We built the bridge between our separate islands,

filing to and fro to rummage and explore;

nor did the time we spent go unrewarded -

with each to his own prizes in loving vigil.

The bridge blown, I stand suspicious - fretting

to get a better sight of what might be enacted,

back on the other side - with no lenience

for a clean record, as I wield my weapon of judgement.

I bludgeon innocence with poisoned eyes, surprised

at the range of changed images I now espy -

trying to see things as they once were, but uncertain

of the person who lurks behind your smiling face.

For once implicit mutual trust is holed,

all coinage looks like brass, and never gold.