THERE AND OLD SWINGING BRIDGE
THAT STANDS SO TALL
BUT SO FREE OVER THE WATER FALL
THAT SWINGS WHEN I WALK TO THE OTHER SIDE
STOPPING TO LOOK ACROSS
WATCHING THE WATER FALL
TAKES THE WAVES FOR A RIDE
OH THERE AND OLD SWINGING BRIDGE
THAT HIDES IN THE BUSHES KEEPING TO IT'S SELF
IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT
BUT WHEN THE SUN GOES OUT
THERE ONLY A FEW STILL KNOW
WHAT THE OLD SWINGING BRIDGE
IS ALL ABOUT
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem