The Bridge

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