by Gladys Parker, November 2000


Sometimes I dwell on yesterdays;

So many years have passed.

Wonder how I came this far

And grew this old so fast.


It seems just like a dream,

But it’s true, I know.

There was no bridge over the river

On the ferry we would go.


I see the ferry coming

Across the great divide.

It’s docking now to take us

To the other side.


Then reaching the other side,

Tractors are by the way

To pull the cars from the mud

And ruts of murky clay.



Today the roads are highways,

Smooth ribbons everywhere.

Cars are going faster

And planes are in the air.


So many things have changed

In Wilmington, my home town.

Now we have two bridges

And need no ferry around.











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