I walked out one day,
the wind was breezing through my hair,
the sun looking upon my face.
I went walking and what did I find?
A strong bridge upon the creek.
Strong and sturdy, red and pretty was this very meek.

Day after day, I walked to that bridge
looking down at the glassy water.
I noticed how strong it was, it’s power was radiating off of it.
I went there day after day, and didn’t notice a change.

A raging storm swept by, but the red bridge seemed fine.
But soon after the storm, the bridge began to “Creeeeaaaak”
I started to notice that the bridge, seemed to grow very weak,
and I was soon too scared to cross, the bridge and the peak.

The bridge started to collapse one day,
One side stood strong, but the more I watched the more I noticed
the paint began to chip off.
Weeks went by, one side stood, it was the oddest sight.
But finally the bridge gave up, stopped fighting it’s last fight.

There, I was sad, I loved this bridge at hand.
But some days come by were we all have to say,
that our bridges will fall weak.