Hope MAG

By Anonymous

   Trains crash across the rusted bridge.

Below water swirled with the many colors

of black, as small fish float in death.

No grass lines the bank as once it did.

Just a few stray wisps of brown.



And still.

A sparrow sits singing on an old Gnarled

oak that rests half beneath the bridge,

a sign that hope is still strong in many

hearts.





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