The Solitary Wooden Bridge

Suddenly the words don't seem to come, and we grow increasingly silent.

Sometimes we don't even greet each other, and leave just as silently as we came.

What has happened, or have we simply run out of things to say?

Or perhaps there wasn't much to say in the first place.

Different strokes for different folks; different paths for different lives.

Only time can tell what all this means, yet:

"Time is too slow for those who wait,
too swift for those who fear,
too long for those who grieve,
too short for those who rejoice,
but for those who love, time is eternity." - Henry Van Dyke

DreamCatcher