The Bridge of Hope
At the foot bridge, I linger; an hour goes
while again confronted I am with foes.
Deterrent are they, none but my own doubts;
each from imagination of mine, again sprouts.
Holding my feet once more in grips of iron,
forbidding me those dreams of life that beckon.
Sad, I stare at grass greener on the other side,
longing as yet for courage to leave all aside.
To this bridge of hope, surely I will come again
to cry over lame failures in this one bargain!
Re-submitted 24/09/16
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