The old creek, with little more than br A trickle of a flow, br Ran along the base of the bridge— br Slightly winding as it went. br br It joins the countless places br That foster childhood memories. br There, down a hill, we caught br Minnows, tadpoles, crayfish and turtles. br br We had to cross the creek br To get to Granny’s house. br And sometimes, I (a little child) br Was timid and so afraid. br br But there was always one older br To encourage and guide along— br Until the day came, br When I was no longer afraid. br br Then I could cross alone, br For I had conquered the old creek. br br © 2009 W.S.