One day in early spring,
I stop to welcome the morning;
Calm and steady breathing,
Hands at my side dangling
Times that I am missing
Face upturned and listening.
Thoughts begin wandering
Down the path I start walking
These feet tired and aching
No place to be going
Lost I am existing
There is a bridge spanning
Decrepit and crumbling
Dark oak wood is browning
Iron slats now warping
The other end is missing
Connected to nothing
Broken dreams escaping
Eyesight narrow and dimming
Arthritic and ailing
I have quit aspiring
Nowhere is inviting
Like this bridge, expiring
Aspirations dieing
With an empty heart weighing
And accomplishments fading
Homeward I am heading
Left with naught but waiting.
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