The Bridge

The tracks of dead trains from time long ago,

Carries only weeds, wrapping the rails slow.

A bridge of wood, the tracks they stretch,

The endless wanderer holds his breath.

Below the stream, of the waters deep.

The river gives you dreams in sleep.

Floating Are lofting feathered gulls,

They sit in silence, they swim in gentle love.

Each step upon the bridge is fate,

Crossing Into heavens gate.

Until you reach the very end.

The bridge your only real friend.

Don't look back once you've crossed.

The bridge will stand at every cost.

And carry those who need to be,

Across the river near the sea.

To find their love so sweet and innocently.

© 2 days a