Vorhängeschlösser

There's a town in Austria
I visited once;
A model town of picture perfect buildings,
And a river the colour of
A glacial sky –
Like frozen aquamarine.

The mountains embrace the town's fringes
And tower like snow-topped giants
Over the wooden toy people
Below.

And there is something beautiful
In the way that you can stand anywhere,
On any street,
Look up,
And be made to feel inconsequentially small.

My favourite part is the bridge.

The bridge over the river is used
Probably by thousands of people,
Thousands of times
A day.

On the wire mesh along its sides,
There are padlocks.
They serve no prescribed purpose,
For they are not there to lock anything in,
Or keep anything out.

They simply are,
Much like the thing they are there to represent.

On each and every padlock
There is writing.
Sometimes one name,
Sometimes two,
But nearly always a love heart,
Or a kiss,
To accompany.

These padlocks are the love letters
Of strangers;
The confessions of tourists and
The declarations of the locals.

And I remember staring at them,
Each and every one;
I remember taking artistic photos
Of the river, with padlocks and
The wire mesh of the bridge
In the foreground.

And I all I could think was:
I hope that one day,
I will find a love
Worthy of a padlock on a bridge.