Lady on the bridge

It was a cool spring day, with a hint of sunlight shining on the river, looked as if the ducks were having a meeting near the river-shore. She stood on the wooden bridge, one hand clutching the side rail , other, swirling her fingers in the air, as if playing a piano. Her golden turned grey hair brushed here face, she stood there emotionless. Many thoughts zoomed her mind. It has been a long life, not sure if fulfilling. She often used to think about him. Half century ago, he left her, she thought that she had come a long way after that. Bruised and shattered, she swung back at life and found animation in it again. It was difficult but she did it. She had to fight it all alone, couldn't tell anybody; was never shy or afraid or ashamed. What was it? She softly brushed the ring on her love finger with her thumb. She felt alone and left again, hours ago she had said her final goodbyes to her husband.

The old man came around and stood next to her on the bridge. She had never seen him in her married life and here he was after 50 long years. He was not sure: should I embrace her? The man next to her looked weak and tired, you could see a hint of fondness shabbily covered with conceit in his eyes. He said: " I had to go." She looked around, still emotionless and then finally a bead dropped, trailing through her cheeks met the river. She whispered, "I wish the war had never happened."