Blue Bridge... that's the name I chose,
I stand beside it as the traffic flows.
I gaze up high where the sun climbs bright,
Casting shadows, warm and light.
Like a stove, both hot and cold,
Uncertain stories left untold.
Everything's close yet feels so far,
The distant gleam of each passing car.
A flower blooms, a dandelion spreads,
A blanket of white atop green beds.
Thousands upon thousands fill the grass,
A quiet moment, stillness vast.
I look to the sky—purple, pink, and gold,
In colors warm, yet stories cold.
A bird flies up to a tall, tall tree,
While I stand here with what I see.
A little chick takes flight, so small,
Vision blurs but I still see it all.
I hear my name, I look to find
A pair of blue eyes, soft and kind.
I step toward the bridge and glance below,
The world beneath in a steady flow.
Cars of blue, yellow, orange, and white,
All racing by in morning light.
By a waterfall close, a duck swims near,
And laughter echoes sharp and clear.
The clock reads nearly 7:35,
Children run, alive, alive!
I watch a boy, perhaps age seven,
In a moment brief, a glimpse of heaven.
Everything's bright, yet shadows lie,
As leaves drift down from trees up high.
Branches bare, so open, free,
Left in their quiet vulnerability.
A chick tries wings, a bee seeks bloom,
And spiders weave through nature's room.
This world is pretty, bold and bright,
But what's the most beautiful sight?
YOU ARE READING
Through my lens
PoetryStep into the vibrant mind of a poet and writer, where creativity knows no bounds. Dive into the joy of storytelling through poetry, where each verse offers a glimpse into unique perspectives and untold tales. Let yourself be drawn into the visual s...
