-:¦:-:¦: Brooklyn Bridge -:¦:-:¦:
-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:
My grandpa proudly told tales of grime and sweat
Those tales as a family we cannot forget
As a youth he worked hard to pay off his parent's debt
The stress caused his beloved father's death
On the Brooklyn Bridge he became a man
Working from dawn through his life's span
Muscles grew sore and his back bent
The evidence of the hardest days he spent
On the bridge that became his daily home
High above the ground where the pigeons roam
As the bridge progressed so did his many plans
To quit and leave his work to a younger man
The day came when he could work no more
Arthritis made his body very sore
We are reminded whenever we pass the bridge
Of grandpa hanging up there on a ridge
copyright©2006Irene
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