Burned Bridges

When I chose
To burn my bridges to you,
O what a stupid choice I made;
For I burned my fingers with the matches.

When I changed
My mind and wished to return,
The way to you I found not;
It lay before me now as smoldering ashes.

When I looked,
Hope had been consumed by coals,
Angry flames had lapped up my stupidity;
I learned one cannot return over burned bridges.

© Loyd C. Taylor

by Loyd C. Taylor, Sr.

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