The Lark
Published in

The Lark

The Bridge of Sighs

Photo by Jonathan Gallegos on Unsplash

Sometimes, when we open our eyes,
Like Byron, on the bridge of sighs,
And see what is really always there,
Unresting death,
Molded-in white limestone,
Hidden behind bars;
Then we take a scare
That sends us scurrying
Anywhere
That’s not the bridge of sighs.

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John E Marks

John E Marks

I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can