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| PC: Erin Leary |
I travelled to the God’s own country
A place with a beautiful history
Locals say there is a golden bridge beneath
Now covered with leaves and moss, looking like sheath
As legend says, this bridge shall rise
The day the moon is high and bright are the skies
Here was where he had asked her to wait
Years passed & he was lost to fate
She waited here every night
The bridge shall rise when the sailor & his lover unite
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers
That is beautifully woven words... Sad but a lovely read!
ReplyDeleteThank you Ira :-)
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ReplyDeleteThank you I B Arora :-)
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