The Bridge

The bridge at Green Mountain enthralled my family.  It made me think about all those families that came before.  Were they too mesmerized by this bridge?

Having fun.

Having fun.

Playing.

Watching you watching me.

Hop, skip and jump.

Serious face.

Watching turtles.

Contemplating.

Finally, a smile.

Goodbye y’all.

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42 responses to “The Bridge

  1. Hi Seth, I hope you don’t mind me sharing this here. Your comment on the bridge reminded me of something I wrote while I was looking at an old bridge a while back. Seems like we have the same sentiment on old bridges.

    Untold Stories

    I stand beneath this crumbling bridge
    An echo from the past
    And ponder who has come before
    A matey or a lass.
    Did they cross this bridge
    With hopes held high
    With dreams of far off lands
    A soldier on his way to war
    Two lovers hand in hand.
    I stand beneath this crumbling bridge
    It’s brackets Worn and old,
    It seems to bow before me,
    It’s secrets still untold.
    Standing still I faintly hear
    A whisper or the wind,
    Maybe those who’ve gone before
    Are coming home again.
    I stand beneath this crumbling bridge,
    Drinking in its glory,
    And if I listen closely,
    I hear it’s untold story.

  2. What a great family experience…and so awesome that you take such beautiful photos to remember your day!! Loved the “Untold Stories” poem,” too, by one of your readers…it does fit!!

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