I am sitting on this old covered bridge;
I am looking down this winding stream;
Where many a fisherman,
caste his line and caught his dream.
I now see it’s crooks and bends,
quickly flowing to the sea,
where it’s freshness ends,
and at it’s beginning a new voyage begins.
Our lives are much like this stream,
with its bends and rapids,
racing to where it ends,
and that destiny depends who we follow,
and who we choose for friends.

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