Bridges

bridges

children who do a good deed every day

adorably stretching your arms out wide

dutifully, like the little house on the prairie,

counting in silence the sheep that flock from shore to shore grazing and frolicking

your world has long left the colors of butterflies

and a light feather of sadness occasionally flies by

from a wild goose of the north journeying alone

when the busy lights on the shores go out

and the reeds and grasses on the stream fall asleep

and the night grows cool

who will throw some light clothes over you

bridges