I followed the river and stopped at the old footbridge the stone felt warm after a morning basking in the sun. Someone had chislled into one of the stones. I ran my fingers over the grooves picking out the crude letters... "Christine". Love immortalized in stone, or just graffiti to show it can be done?

I wondered how old these stones were, how many people had stood here as I did now; musing as the waters rippled below? How many had dropped a boat into the current and watched it speed away? How many lovers had stood and embraced? How many stories could you tell old bridge?

I stayed a while enjoying the warmth of the sun, listening to the birds and watching the clouds drift by. A moment of peace away from the world.