Most bridges wear
the slow burn of time. Parts
remain intact.
This journey back and forth.
I need to stop. More.
And not by accident. Peer
beneath. What really
is reflecting? The
rush? The traffic? I need more.
A ship moves. Water stirs.
Is it just me, or
have I missed the boat?
There’s a toll. Yet I strive
onward. Looking. Searching.
Somewhere…there’s a golden gate.
