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December 10, 2010 / Samuel DiPaola

The Bridge

I walked over a bridge one day
and stopped half-way.
Such promise did the other side hold. . .
retreat was not an option
as I longed for something new.
If I stand forever still
in the median of my desire
will time wait as I?
Or do I run,
recklessly forward
and wonder someday where it all has gone?
Below the bridge,
an endless abyss,
where folly abounds
and better men than I
have fallen.

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