Kind, generous, palish bridge,
Thus thou need to let cross
For simple folk that I might
Reach to one next in end.
Through silent patience, through peace intent,
Must you bear such heavy burden?
Let as such that us would cross
That reach to one next of start.
A place of scene where color leaves change
And the gentle wave of lake present,
The present of life that you may enjoy
To then pass the meager eras of time,
To let your friends of wings hang your gentle arms.
Such steel, endure with strength and fair,
That let us such fools to cross
Upon of friends and love next in line.
Yet you, remain, distant to fade,
Not known thou deeds that let us cross.
Few that sight your grace to mend your wounds
Then shift upon the next of work
Or blind by the tiresome deeds of life.
Friends of wings would carry on
To the next of course they must follow
And you, palish bridge, alone once more.
Smile, you are, content as such?
Why not gain beside of rust and muck?
Does your fair, generosity, bare hold
To take for grant that we may cross
Over the extent of your battered body?
Fool, I am, to offer my generosity.