Cloudy skies float endlessly, all around there.

Blinking the suns reflection, upon the night’s mirror,

Some think, this is a description, of a night’s terror.

The beauty is written between the lines provided.

Such features are the destiny, of the evening divided.

Swaying lines hold the temperment of bridge gated.

Supporting the scenes, that could never be understated,

Swingin from gusts, of the dimmest night’s rapture,

Such feats were a vision, which only one would capture.

First mis-understood, then it became reality created,

Many persons have described and over narrated.

Sretching across the waters, with glistening waves,

Traveling on floating cascades, above mystery graves,

Out into the distance, is that a reflection or illusion?

It matches the gate, of this connection, with conclusion.

That supports the beginning and end, over the bay.