A Drifters Bend

Floating,
down the river,
I try to catch my breath,

ironically laughing
 as my raft is filled,
with my wasted breath,

I'm passed a can,
and crack open this beer,

as birds fly by,
chirping beautify amongst each other,

with the stream low,
we tie our rafts together,

so the rocks don't,
impede our members,

rope burn is the price,
we all must pay to progress together,

the river turns,
around the bend,
to this own,
drifters end,

Realizing in and unending bliss that:

Bridges come,
and bridges go,
they connect the dots,
to our social plots,