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.