The Old Bridge. 🌉

Each weathered plank, a whispered tale— 🌾

Of fleeting feet, unshod and fleet, 🦶💨

And hands that clasped the splintered rail, 🤲

To watch the river, dusk-becalmed, retreat. 🌅💧

It murmurs now beneath each tread— 👣

The languid gait of farmers, years outworn, 👨‍🌾

The hurried child, as wild thoughts sped, 🧒💭

And secret trysts of lovers, hope reborn. 💞🌙

The village dreams in twilight’s haze, 🌌

Where chimney smoke in silence curls; 🏡💭

And golden lamplight soft arrays 

Familiar faces, memory’s pearls. 🕯️💫