A short love poem.
I would often sit looking out over the bay and bridge. I would wonder how I ended up here, in a place I had always loathed. I still don’t love the city. It’s never any different, always cold and damp....
I would often sit looking out over the bay and bridge. I would wonder how I ended up here, in a place I had always loathed. I still don’t love the city. It’s never any different, always cold and damp....