Poem The bridge

 Poem The bridge

The crossing bridge

Over the river green

While swaying aside

With people to go

As they ride.

Always in use

Be it be sun or rain

Filled with fragrance

Of flowers that grow there.

Years have gone

But the bridge stands tall

Always loyal to the crossing

With its sturdy claim tall.

Like a promise kept

Never it's help as a crossing

For the people ends.