Every morning he comes

to stand on the bridge

and look down in the water

in a moment of reflection

every morning he walks

to the bridge

to watch the cars go by

and see people rushing off to work

he is a lonely figure

with no one to talk to

he seems lost

and longing for something

maybe it is conversation

maybe it is companionship

maybe it is the place he left behind

then

one morning he is no longer there

and the bridge seems empty without him

as if a part of it had been removed

the people in the rushing cars

do not miss him

the water under the bridge flows on

as usual

only a passing poet

now wonders where he went

a witness to his sole existence

he worries about his going

and what became of

the man on the bridge

a metaphor for loneliness.