The Old Bridge

The old bridge is still there,
How many feet have crossed it?
How many children have played on it?
How many have rested on it and just thought,
Each one temporary lost in their own imagination,
Thinking about life, worrying about their troubles?
Till the moment passes and they wander off to carry on with their lives.
How many?
The bridge does not count them,
It does not care,
It is still in the same place,
Yes, the old bridge is still there.

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