Covered Bridges By Mari Henson

We combed and combed
The county, the country,
For the vaunted covered bridges,
But nil, never did we find any,

In our journey,
We crossed many a span,
But they're either uncovered,
Or covered with steel trusses.
But of covered bridges,
We found none.

Our journey-glazed eyes
Scoured the horizons,
Sought our goals, our pleasures.
And on the way back,
Sought more such structures,
Still no sighting of any
with a wooden canopy.

Near the end of our sojourn,
Hovered into sight
Picturesque county store,
All painted white.
Tending it were buxom beauties,
Friends Betty and Connie.

Across the street,
Manning gas pumps
Was Michael Wayne.
No relation to the Great John,
He staunchly maintained.

All could well be
Our heroes and heroines
Of the Bridge at Madison County
(The Book, the Movie).

Further down the road,
We came to a stop.
'Twas a dead-end,
Seems to be nothing
Else 'round the bend.

But then burst into sight,
Our much-coveted bridge,
Not rustic nor ivy-covered,
But with new paint, spanking white!

Proclaimed a legend, a sign
In bold letters, "CLOSED."
So much for our antique span
Our romantic Grail gone.