These bridges are founded by men
who worked tirelessly under
their escaping sweat that caught fire,
and the scorching felt of the sun.
These men are founded, by bridges
who took the time at it’s hand, and shared
the weight, the burden, the life
carried by these men.
I wouldn’t burn these bridges,
nor even get near to hear it’s groan every night
for every creak and slit, it speaks, and it spits.
i remember the bridge because of those men,
but forgot who found each of them first.
and i forgot who walks there every night
To hear, to listen, and to capture..
the sounds behind, made by the hands
of the men who found the bridge.
© Ronnel Padua
Response to our Inspiration Call on February 13, 2017
Get Creative at www.facebook.com/CreativeTalentsUnleashed
Photo credit: © pixabay.com
Categories: Featured Writer's