This Bridge

Back then, I’d drive across this bridge
To get to where I had to be;
In summer, stood in traffic long,
No other choice was there for me.

For this was where it happened, then,
The daily choices I would make,
But now, it’s been a lot of years
And though I’m back for mem’ries sake,

The lesson learned is still alive.
This bridge was all the choice I had;
There was no point in wondering,
Or feeling down, or done-by-bad,

As I still had a way to go,
Though sometimes onerous and slow —
For though our routes be near, or far,
We have to start
From where
We are

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “This Bridge”

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