We cross our bridges
When we come to them
And burn them behind us,
The blazing fires warming our backs,
With nothing to show for our progress
Except a memory of the smell of smoke,
And a presumption that
Once our eyes watered.
YOU ARE READING
From the Depths
PoetryA collection of original written word from the heart describing things felt or thought in real situations. I hope you enjoy the read - who knows what will come of it. #wattys2019
