Saturday, February 2, 2019

Bridges . . .

Bill Swartwout 

Six AM
The buses aren't nearly as crowded
As the night before
Someone said there was
Music and laughter
Behind all the shutters and doors
What was all of it for

Who needs friends
There's barely a minute for breathing
Everyone here works so hard
There's no party
When I reach my doorstep
I struggle to pull out my key
Where's the meaning for me

You see but you're unaware
There's life on the other side

But there's no bridge to cross
I'm looking through the fog
For some way out of here
I've baggage here to toss

Bless my soul
I've read about you in the paper
I've seen your picture somewhere
When you speak it's in volumes and volumes
I can't hear a word that you say
Funny it happens that way

I've been told that envy's the thing I've been feeling
For your kind of work and your play
But to tell you the truth
That it's only a wish
For a new kind of day
When worry and fear melt away

Could be
That a day will come
When you just might understand

I’d like to go away
And go there to stay
But I can’t find the way

So it goes
But change never really comes easy
Resistance is felt all around
But inevitably something happens
That makes the old ship run aground
We all stare in awe of what’s found

Like me you appear to be
Looking for some meaning here

©2006 Raymond M. Jozwiak

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