The cracks spoke a story,
Ancient and old,
The bridge that was used to cross by many,
Was now standing alone,
The voyages and the path,
Travelled by those few,
The visitors admiring the splendid view,
The river that flow beneath once had boats passing by,
For trade and survival this was the only means to come by,
Now the bridge stands alone,
River all dry,
Waiting for passersby,
What a magnificent bridge it was those days,
Standing Tall and paths wide,
Now it remains an unfinished story yet to be written by…
Creative Envision 