.At the middle of the bridge I stood, looking at the rocks below
One hundred feet, the drop would ****. I steeled myself, prepared to go.
Just as I was to hop the fence and get it over with and done.
I heard the sound of air brakes squeal; a bus stopped on its local run.
One passenger got off the bus; He was an old man grey and gruff.
The lines around his eyes suggested that he had often had it rough.
He looked at me with stern fixed glare and read my reason for being there.
With gentle words he saved my life, talked me off of my despair.
The years have passed, some good, others not
But never again was I in that spot, where I was tempted to walk on air.
I’m fortunate that he was there, an unlikely angel for an unspoken prayer.
Special thx to John F McCullagh for the re-write.