I found myself on a road last night,
one I never planned to be,
and I cursed the drive, as is my right,
for the time it took from me.
I wanted to speed, to transcend space
blast past these twists of the earth,
and give this fevered want to erase
a moment to prove its worth.
But then I saw it—the covered bridge—
a relic from long before.
Entranced, I laid off the gas a smidge
until I could slow no more.
Silhouetted amongst the starlight
it loomed, forgotten no doubt,
by thousands traveling day and night,
mindlessly going about.
It’s not adorned with a doting plaque
commemorating its mark,
and yet, for beauty, it doesn’t lack,
waiting there, tall in the dark.
We race down roads once not crossable,
forgetting what came before,
ignoring what was impossible
without the bridges of yore.
— ❧ —
More Under the Bridge
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