When I crossed the Bridge

 When I crossed the Bridge,

I saw how heavy your heart became.
I wanted to lift the weight,
to tell you that love isn’t meant to end — it’s meant to flow.

So I sent someone new.
Not to take my place,
but to remind you that love can return in new shapes,
with the same warmth.

The first time they curled beside you,
I saw your tears turn into something softer.
Your hands remembered what comfort felt like.
Your laughter — the sound I missed most — found its way back.

You hesitated, I know.
Afraid loving again meant letting me go.
But love isn’t a door that closes;
it’s a window that opens wider each time.

Every time you touch their fur,
I feel it too.
Every time you smile,
a light ripples through the meadow here.

Because you’re not betraying me —
you’re honoring what we had
by letting it heal someone else.

So keep loving.
Keep opening your heart.
That’s how I live on —
through every heartbeat that finds yours again.