*This is a poem I wrote for English Class. In case you haven't noticed, it was supposed to be from the point of view of an inanimate object. I posted it because I haven't posted in quite some time now, and it's the least violent of all the poems I have written. Don't read it unless you are either extremely bored, or you are expecting it to suck. KTHXBAI.*

Here I am, Bridge
Firmly imbedded in stone landscape,
Stretched across the gap between North and South.
Half of me is in the shade, and the other: in direct sunlight.
There is not much to do here,
Save watch the water go by beneath me.
Sometimes it is peaceful,
With birds chirping and a gentle breeze blowing.

In the springtime I watch the new leaves,
Shooting forth from the maples.
The flowers unfurl tentatively.
“Is it time yet?” They seem to whisper.
Ivy, Iris, Moss, Maple, Mulberry, Fiery Lily, and Fern.
The snow melts gradually.
Torrents of water rush beneath me,
Nearly flooding the Earth around.

The summer sun warms my surface,
And the children bound across me,
Doing flying leaps and twirls.
I long to join them in their merriment,
To dangle my toes in the cool water below.
But toes have I not,
So I content myself with watching, pensively,
As everything grows around me.

Occasionally a child will sit on me,
Or walk over me without a second thought.

Autumn comes.
The children disappear into their classes.
Green algae grows thick,
And falling leaves of all colors cover me,
Like a blanket, to protect me from what is next to come.

Winter follows.
The water becomes frigid,
The trees are stripped of their leaves,
And the animals have gone to sleep.
The nights grow ever longer.
My only friends are water, plants, moon, sun, and stars.
Oh, how I long to play with the children!

Yet firmly embedded, I remain.
The seasons come around and back again.
Here I am, Bridge.
Unable to do more than watch the world grow old around me.