Under the bridge where I go when I'm all alone,
The one place
for the
first time I can call my own.
A river flows under the bridge where it never changes its
direction.
There are many beaver dams but none are able to complete
their mission.
The river is strong and knows not to give up on its goal.
To be partially held back is no excuse to lose control.
I envy the river for not giving up.
Why can't humans follow through with their dreams in spite
of a hold up?
On the wall under the bridge, I see old graffiti.
I ask myself if the people who made this fine art have seen
what I see.
If they have, I'm sure that they have achieved more than
a smidge, All
thanks to the river under the bridge.
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