THE BROKEN BRIDGE

As I read back to back of these old memories.
l came across an old bridge built in the centuries.
Under this bridge, once upon a time
a man lived with his three children and wife, Kaduna.
(Hans, Mamorita, and the dearest daughter, Rose)

"What?!...
"Did - you - say - Rooo-se?
... just like rose flo-wer."
Dazzled Mr. stranger, as she mentioned her name to.
Hitherto, Rose had lived with the family alone, 
under the bridge they have made their home.
No friends, no neighbourhood.
There, Mr. stranger once went and stood
after meandering his way through.
Rose came out and said "Hello! Mr. stranger,
would you mind for a cup of water?"
"No, thanks for your kind offer" said Mr. stranger.

At the outskirt of the Katanga village,
we have come to collapse the old bridge.
"...and what are you doing here little pretty girl?"
Rose ran back into the tunnel.
Mr. stranger went in with her.
Mr. stranger saw her parents,
her younger brother and sister.
In slender flesh they laid to rest 
to see what the day has for them next.
Hope is all what they could cope, 
So Mr. stranger assured them a new home.

Back into the village intoxicated, at dawn;
Mr. stranger woke up and found his men gone,
on bulldozers to get the work done.
In no time, Mr. stranger ran and stood a mountain top.
But ere Mr. stranger could say "stooooooop!"
In dusty view the bridge was down,
leaving a memory of a 'Rose' once found;
      "Dear Rose, here I stand
       with the flower in hand" 
                       -love-