As I Stand on the Old Train Bridge

O'er the Thames River the red sun disappears
As I stand on the old train bridge looking down.
I can almost hear the trains of yesteryear
Winding their weary way through the old stone town.

The river carves a path throught the fertile groud.
Next to the running water lies a lush plain.
The grass is so green and the trees do abound
Where Jersey cows once grazed beneath passing trains.

Two ducks take a long drink after the soft rain
As they hide behind a swaying poplar tree.
In the distance grows a field of golden grain
As far away as the naked eye can see.

As I stand on the old train bridge, silence speaks;
And a hush falls o'er the meandering creek.

(Linda Jonasson, St. Mary's, Ontario, July 20, 2006.)