The River

In the forest there is a big sturdy bridge.

It was handcrafted long ago from strong hardy trees.

If you stand on top the bridge,

The only thing you can see is the river.

On one side the water is rushing towards you,

On the other side the water is flowing away from you.

The river only changes direction below you,

When it passes swiftly under the bridge.

If you cross the bridge you're facing a densely wooded mountain.

There's no path that goes up the mountain of steep, jagged cliffs.

No one really wants to go up there,

As you can't see the river from up there.

Along the edge of the river there are two paths.

One path leads upstream against the current.

You can see the rapids, waterfalls, and turbulent whitewater.

You can walk forever and never find where the river begins.

The other path follows the river downstream.

You can see the water calmly flowing away from you, peacefully glistening in dappled sunlight.

You can walk forever and never find where the river goes.

When you cross back over the bridge and walk away,

You can hear the river calling,

But you can't see the river at all.

The only thing you can see,

Is the old strong bridge,

Where the river comes and goes.

All rights reserved 2021 Veronica Roser