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