Eighty years ago this bridge might of been on the front line

The nearby towns and villages would have been obliterated

But the invasion did not take place and today it sleeps

Next to the abandoned pill boxes that are fading slowly into dust

When I was a child my parents told me that the great composer

Had once played his piano on this very bridge which lit up my imagination

And today this rural railway bridge bears the name that I bestowed on it

All those years ago when on a lazy afternoon walk with my secret parents