the bridge
I enter with the hope
of feeling your golden arches.
Built by so many hands,
so many years ago.
I feel the sway
of the bridge
As i look into
the river below.
Watching it flow into Kentucky.
Fascinated at how such a bridge
can hold so much weight,
sway and not collapse.
And how i put so much trust
into nameless faces,
and a foundation that
never touches land
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