« Je rêve de toi », said the banner
held up proudly by a bridge.
I’d understand a man, or
woman, lapdog at a smidge,
but how could I be dreamed of by a bridge?

I went to look, heart a-patter,
unaccustomed to such dates.
‘Twas fun to stand upon it,
sole to sol, perhaps soul mates,
but where can bridges even go on dates?

We met again, in our manner
and I too began to dream:
sleep under, and perhaps we’d
someday bridge our own wee stream.
But were there troubled waters in this dream?

« Je rêve de toi », said the banner,
until one day it was gone.
I understand I crossed it,
and I’d best be moving on.
But can I burn my bridges when I’m gone?

Last time I was in Geneva, I saw a bridge with a banner on it saying « Je rêve de toi » (“I dream of you”) I started thinking about what would happen if somebody simply accepted that the bridge indeed dreamed of them, and I jotted down the first few lines. I found them this evening when I realised I hadn’t started writing a poem for NaPoWriMo yet. The poem doesn’t exactly make sense, but I think it’s sort of pretty and sweet anyway, if I’m allowed to say that about something that I forced out of my own head. Sol in French means ground or floor; I tried to find an English word of similar meaning derived from it, but the best I could do was ‘soleplate’, which does have the advantage of rhyming with ‘soul mate’, but is further from being accurate.

I’m looking for a more punny title in French or English involving bridges or rivers and love, but I haven’t found one I like yet.