Ballad of the Bridge
I know of when they built it, I know of its’ demise
I know the wood and steel of which it was comprised,
T’is not the wooden beams, nor steel or even nails
T’is the bridge’s character that still today prevails
Countless steps passed over the old worn wooden planks
As it lay there silently across opposing banks
And underneath it, in the shadow it once made
So many laughing children in that shadow played
And there was I among them, in exuberant delight
Filling the fantasies in a youthful summers’ flight,
Chasing dull green bullfrogs and butterflies so free
In the bridge’s shadow … provided there for me.
Recollection floods over me, within my mem’rys’ eye
Recalling days of old … slowly drifting by.
The Old Red Covered Bridge, of course, is just a memory
Still within my mind it’s prompting reverie
And often on occasion, I go to where it stood
Hoping again to see: the steel, the nails and wood.
Copyright © Jack Clark | Year Posted 2020
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