Broken Bridges and Startling Streams

Just so you know my poems have a lyric-like quality to them, as I find it easier to sing as I write.

I walk along the path,
That I've always used before,
Nothing special,
Nothing too strange.

Then suddenly I see the water,
So far not long ago,
The stream so calm yet laced with fury,
The voice of defeat.

Perfumed poison,
The water can be fortune,
The water can be fatal,
The bridge is the only way to go.

I look around,
It seems to have changed,
In the instant that I blinked.
Landscape littered,
Lives of longing,
Hopes lie all around.
A smell defeat,
I sense some power,
And I won't let it go,
Defeat will be my answer,
Hope will be my friend.

I see the wood over there,
Up in the trees,
Not yet used at all,
It seems so high and I so low,
I don't want to try,
But then I see,i
My hopes before me,
And they brake my fall,
They take me away and I am there:
A step along the bridge.

Author's Note

I won't say exactly what it is about as I think part if the beauty of poetry is finding something for yourself in someone else's feelings or ideas, plus my imagery is strange...