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A Poem: Bridges, Dreams, and Moonbeams


There's a village in the country
                    Wonderful farms and ridges
                    yet it's most cherished gift
                    are it's covered bridges

                    Structures timeless and charming
                    roofs for weather covers,
                    but covered most of all
                    to cradle spooning lovers.
                    The bridges are strong
                    for driver and team
                    letting in not the snow
                    just the moonbeams.
                    Two moonbeams, they say
                    found their way to the Larkin
                    and there moonbeams thrive
                    as do all when they are sparkin.
                    Moonbeams and bridges
                    now that's a strong pair.
                    And when mixed with love
                    creates quite a lair.
                    In the bridge two moonbeams
                    relied on this mix
                    and before you knew it
                    it was them, plus six.
                    Six moonbeams were sent.
                    Each shining bright
                    left the shadow of the bridge
                    taught to do what was right.
                    Four moonbeams stayed close,
                    a hop at the least,
                    another shines south
                    another down east.
                    All were taught dreams and strength
                    now those were the key.
                    Little did they know
                    how tested they'd be.
                    You see moonbeams can be clouded
                    when the view is not right
                    cloudy days can continue
                    lest the bridge stays in sight.
                    The young moonbeams were taught
                    to dream and make do.
                    What they learned as they aged
                    was to keep the bridge in view.
                    All thought that the dream
                    was success and it's gold.
                    Now they know it's the bridge
                    that's what they were told.
                    To remember your roots.
                    To be strong and deliver.
                    Not be swept down the stream
                    to the uncaring river.
                    The lessons taught well
                    by the spooning moonbeams
                    is that tomorrow and the past
                    are part of the dream.
                    I know this as fact
                    not because I'm a grad
                    for the spoonin moonbeams
                    are my Mom and Dad.

Written by James Francis Spaulding
1955 - 2004


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