The water looked up at the man's face;
said, 'come with me, let's take a midnight swim'.
He could barely hear the slap of waters prattle,
over the sour clanging of the wrought iron cables,
like century old Church bells festered with rust,
eerie....and acerbically clamorous,
skewing the mind of clear acumen,
feeling wet whispers of doubt in his head.
Said the Water to the man,
'Whatchu' waitin' for...,
why y'u lookin' 'hind your back?
Was yo'r sense of strangeness
hoping for some media man-god
com' an' stroke yo'r ignorance,
then slap it 'cross th' morning Joe news'?
An' y'u wont even be around to smell it....!
bloody fool y'u be... to disrespect Life -
th' most precious God-Gift you'll never see again!
Came a sudden gust of slicing wind,
from an otherwise mundane breeze,
causing the man on the bridge to slip-
onto a cable rail....
his last chance to show his nay to Death
The wind, it passed... the Water now silent;
the man got back into his black Lamborghini;
Wall Street will survive another opening bell,
tho' money's ne'er guarantees peace of mind,
still tomorrow, somewhere, ther'll be someone else
standing on a bridge looking down on Life.
© 2018-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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