The wooden frame standing on the rope
The pile holding the thrill.
The sound of heartbeat , in or out.
This side the memories that side the need.
The less supplies the more is deed.
This is the life with full of thrill
The living hope with old age and wrinkle face
That side of village beyond that bridge.
The only connection of two different life.
The life of bridge ,
The bridge of hope
The bridge of dreams.
Sometime broken sometime risen up
With full of hope and smilies.
The modern age doesnot understand
The steadiness and breave heart
The old wooden pile of bridge
Standing alone catching old rope
And the dreamfull
The old bridge is.
(The Journey, karnali 2016)