I spotted this small bridge in the middle of someone's front yard. It didn't go anywhere. It got me thinking where I might be headed. Do you know where you'll end up?




THE Bridge of Life

Where does it lead, this span so short,
   the days, the years that time distorts?
Its tread is worn from soles that passed,
   that took it slow or crossed it fast.

Hold tight the rails, impede the stride,
    or wind up on the other side.
The end traversed, the last plateau,
   what lies beyond…a flame, a glow?

   
                           © 2008 Photo and Poem by Rose Marie Boyd
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