She stands on the bridge,
She stands in the middle of the bridge,
She stands on the bridge which has two ends,
One end invites her with a white archway coiled by blooming tulips and orchids leading to a grassy cliff,
One end invites her to flickering neon labels and dimmed street lamps leading to an unknown darkened road,
She stands in the middle of the bridge uncertain where to head next,
Both ends of the bridge look alluring with visible traps and sealed thorns,
She stands in the middle of the bridge calculating the risk offered,
The risk of hasting her pace through the bushes of the grassy cliff,
The risk of hasting her pace through the darkness of the unknown road,
She stands in the middle of the bridge;
She stands in the middle of the bridge of hesitation.
YOU ARE READING
Tales of A Libra
PoetryThe author wonders why most of the poems she has read are all about love. Will life be constantly surrounded by love? If yes, why she has not found one? However, suddenly there was a song, and a starry night, that inspired her to write. And follow h...
