Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco Ca Poem by Tom MuyungaMukasa

That part,
of a longer spine,
of a large back,
on which,
we comfortably nestle,
a Walt Disney Park suspended in the air,
an entertainment Eden,
resplendent crimson arcades,
with large arches,
towering columns,
steeped firmly in the ground,
the tips haughtily suspended,
piercing into the fluffy clouds,
far down below,
this loftily spun bridge,
is the blue Pacific,
whose waters,
are forever agitated,
the waves slap incessantly,
the dark jagged rock mass,
and the shiny boulders,
smooth and continuously chiseled,
from years of rubbing,
by the elements and humans,
stronger winds fly by in the faces,
of in-bound sight-seers and traffic,
majestic features are met here,
belief and technical feats,
a bridge hovers over the ocean,
a presentation,
an immaculate Pacific,
a tunnel into the hillside,
a lone Alcatraz in the distant,
near gale-force winds,
neither the boulders,
nor the hills,
give in,
a spectacular backdrop,
a sprinkling of green parks,
signs and notices,
more human activity,
beyond the bridge,
on crests,
creeks and valleys,
square tenements and resorts,
all make up,
the admiration,
that grows stronger,
a treasure to behold,
of this part of the world.