I see from under here, this Troll’s eye view.
The bridges carry people. Some look up
And some look down perched on a sky of blue
But each of them has coffee in their cup.

The people that I meet down here are good,
The people with me on the riverbank
They’re comfort food for thought here in this wood
With warm words greeting me to fill my tank.

The people up top often test me so
They all want something though they seem good folks
They make me nervous while I wait to know
What “something” they will pull out of their cloaks.

Still, every time the people up top test me
I can’t convince myself to want what I see.