PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Under the Bridge
It was just a stretch of highway that crossed over a creek.
Nothing special to look at, not worth travelling to seek.
We lived under the bridge, it gave us shelter from the rain
We had nothing much to live for, just more misery and pain.
How many more people have fallen through the cracks?
Shelter under bridges, on the wrong side of the tracks?
Each day an ordeal through which we must be brave.
Do not seek us under bridges, all you’ll find now, is our grave.
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 16/November/2018
I started out writing a story, but It kept falling into a pattern and it became a poem. I am sorry if this does not comply with the rules, but creativity sometimes has a life of its own.
This was written for Friday Fictioneers Challenge, see the link: