Old gray wood holding fast,
standing, resting atop stacks of stone.
Getting lost within it's beauty,
I wonder how many seasons this
old friend has weathered.
Dreaming and longing for another day,
to see water rushing by it's foot.
Many come and go to look upon it,
possibly thinking the same thought.Turning to leave, I hear a whisper saying
"Please stay, I don't want to be alone."
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