The Bridge
…

In summer, daisies poke out of cracks in the walls.
It was made in the late 1600s to help the horses across the road on their way to Dublin from the mines in Glenmalure and Glendalough.

The Avonmore River dashes through it in the winter and flows like silk in the summer.
We walk under the arches and swim around the sides.

Everytime I approach the bridge, I still relive the first moment we saw it, on the 15th May 2014, on our way to see the place we would call our home. I hoped with all hope that the house would be as glorious as this bridge.

Thankfully it was.

The bridge is now all my bridges.