Rhythmic Stories August 9, 2022

Old Bridges

If you are looking for me today,
follow our path. You know the way

past the grapevines sitting by the ridge
you’ll find me atop of the old girded bridge

I’ll be staring at the tadpoles swimming just beneath
in the clear glassy water running through the creek

I go there sometimes when I’m feeling a little blue
It brightens up my day to sit and think things through

The soft sedating sounds of the bubbling brook
Dancy hues of colors I give them an admiring look

feet dangly off the bridge, just the swishing sound
quietly listening together, no sweeter a place found

Our bridge sits rusting, and her day is now in numbers

So, Run down the hillside and climb on up while we still can remember

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