The bridge… that bridge that draws me in.
That bridge that beckons me to cross.
That beckons me, “Come.”
From one side to another
Beauty conquers my fear.
Beneath… a flow that streams…
A stream that flows.
With every passing trickle
Life runs cold.
It’s a rocky bottom…
That hard floor with a soft bed,
Laid exquisitely between the mountains.
And underneath the blue sky…
That Blue Ridge Canvas.
It’s the perfect spot.
I have fallen in love…
Time and time again…
With that bridge that overlooks
The passing beauty.
3-21-2017 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
gaillovesgodspoetry 