Commonwealth Avenue
Concrete river,
a churning flow of steel and glass,
a vein of the city,
pumping life and noise and dust.
Not just a road,
but a story etched in asphalt,
of dreams pursued,
of deadlines chased,
of the relentless rhythm of the urban heart.
Sixteen lanes, or more,
a battleground of wills,
where horns blare,
and engines roar,
a symphony of impatience.
Overpasses, concrete bridges,
arch over the chaos,
silent witnesses,
to the daily pilgrimage,
a constant hurried stream.
Vendors’ cries, a counterpoint
to the traffic's heavy drone,
fragile stalls,
against the city's might,
a testament to survival.
Streetlights, like watchful eyes,
pierce the haze of night,
casting long shadows
on the weary travelers,
a constant yellow glow.
Commonwealth Avenue,
a symbol of ambition,
a testament to progress,
a ribbon of concrete,
where hope and frustration collide,
a pulse of the city, never still.
©bfa040325
Copyright ©
Bernard F. Asuncion
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