My Old wooden Bridge

My Old Wooden Bridge

On the old wooden bridge that spanned our stream
Many hours were spent of my childhood in dream
Gazing, reflecting on scenes I had known
The one hand reaching toward life and home
That side of the banks was sunny and cheerful
The other side leading, to me, somewhere fearful
Disappearing into the woods' deep green.
I sat in the middle, suspended between
Two ends of the bridge and over the stream
Amid tall trees in my own lonely world
With just myself there and my little dog-girl.
I knew she guarded me and stayed
To keep me from weeping and being afraid;
She would not leave me there alone,
In this way her love was always shown.
Kate Wiley