The bridge that fed our town
Once the proud No. 1 bridge that linked our streets,
Port Shepstone to towns where life repeats.
It carried goods, hopes, dreams, and care,
A lifeline strong, beyond compare.
But one proud pillar gave its all,
And with it came our town’s hard fall.
No care, no checks through passing years,
Now travel’s long, and filled with tears.
Our traders dig deep just to survive,
To keep our little town alive.
The mayor and manager call it a process – slow and planned,
But the people feel they’ve lost the hand
Of leaders meant to heed their cry,
While hope grows faint and spirits dry.
From far and near, all hearts are sore,
This crisis lingers evermore.
Too long delayed by poor design,
While simple folk pay double time.
We bear the cost, we feel the pain,
Yet hope still whispers through the rain.
For Port Shepstone’s heart still beats somehow –
It’s time to fix the No. 1 bridge… and act now.
Let’s stand together — for our bridge, our people, our pride.
Krish Mohan
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