The Backpacker

This is how I felt...this is how I still feel...The River, the bridge...a love that I could feel...A memory of him as I watch the dark waters flow by...

This moment will in memory live
As the moment I lived for,
For eight hundred days…
I peek into the river
Under the bridge that flows
I am aware, as I watch
The banks come close…
It was my love
That shaped earth into stones
The arch carved from faith
And columns molded of hope
On that bridge I stand
Over the river that flows…
Its beams are promises
Made and promises kept,
Styled after my dreams
After night long gone…
When heavy in heart I feel,
I will run down my memory
To return to the moment
To peek into the river
Under my bridge that flows…