TheBridge to the Moon

In the night long ago, there used to be a bridge to the moon, it was in a garden, the bridge was made of gold .

A road led to and from the bridge, it was made of silver, a silver road crossing a lake and to a moon bridge that continued up into the sky, it went along with the stepping stones that led up into the dark starry sky .

In a garden long ago there grew a tree, this tree was a willow tree, it cried amber tears, it cried into a glimmering lake .

It cried until a blue blade cut into its branches, it used to want to live, but that was a long time ago.

In a garden long ago there lay copper stepping stones, you jumped from stone to stone, I remember lilies and trees and such, I remember the lone thought of magic floating around in my head .

I was four ourfive then, the stars shone bright with a future then, you could stare out across the lake from a moon bridge and see something besides water, and tears could bring back life .

You could dance in the fields with fairies, you could be among the stars yet be alone, you could cry tears and seem not to be heard, and you could once more be young .

A garden it was, it gave health to all who entered its gates, you could take a trip among the stars to the moon, you could see them in a different view, way up in the sky.

It was before everything fell from the sky, it was before everything that was not suppose to happen happened, it was when the dragons ruled the sky, it was before the sky fell upon our heads.

You could run and play, you could be a child, you could love again, you could be yourself for the first time.

You realized after you left that you never would come upon it again, you could cry and beat your hands all you want, but it was gone, and your soul too, for it stayed behind with the simple childhood memories.