3/22/05

"This Place Is Beautiful"

At the waterfall

Deep into the woods

I sit on the bridge.

Rusty poles creak,

Flake with each visitor,

Crumbling under

The world's weight.

Bright graffiti screams

To be seen and heard.

I wait for someone,

Another visitor,

Although his presence

Will crumble the bridge.

Dirty water flows

Under the bridge,

Over the cliff,

Splashes in itself

Approaching the bottom.

The water flows on,

Continues its path,

Leaving behind it

The graffitied concrete,

The rusty bridge,

And me, the visitor.