The Bridge of Sighs

Sighing next to the endless dusk...

The steam rising from countless chimneys

All in a row utterly lacking in disarray

The stewpots boiling

Licking condensation across old windows

None can contain

The smells rising

Trailing along alleyways

Impossibly long strings of tiny homes

Fingerprints forgotten on cold steel railings

Flowerpots pretending Spring

As the odd intervals of water pretend rain

So what does one do. . . Today,

amongst yesterdays ancient pretense

Of tomorrow's imagined possibility of what may be possibly tried?

For today has nearly died

Though light stubbornly will not fade

Umbrella covered eyes in disguise

Avoiding puddles where i once would wade.

Implausible perceptions may no longer linger

When even for an instant of now or then or. . .

Rain misted eyes

Can no longer lie

Even in disguise

 

Upon a bridge of sighs. . .

 

Done