The Old and Weathered Bridge

I find myself a-loss, Alone upon the ridge, As I debate to cross. This old and weathered bridge. While slowly inching towards, I gaze upon and spot, The holes and splintered boards, And areas of rot. The rocky ridge does lend, A different way to go. For I could just descend, To cross the creek below. A way that’s not as brisk, Would take a deal of time. And down the rocks I risk, Then up again to climb. Or maybe I just ought, To step with bated breath. And put away the thought, Of falling to my death. And so inside I toss, Unmoved upon the ridge. As I debate to cross, The old and weathered bridge.