As a child I often found myself
under the old iron bridge
that crossed the Shagawa River,
skipping flat stones
across cool waters.
A place of solace,
where I could escape
daily pressures.
Enchanted by the power
of the river's flow.
Captured by the enigma
of its depths.
It was a cool musty place
with the fragrance
only a river creates.
The only sounds;
the hollow crunch
of my footsteps
on those shale stones
that lined the river bank,
sound of the flow,
and the echo of my sighs.
Joyce Chelmo
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bridge-of-sighs/
