Poetry: Hidden Treasure

When you
look closely at the vision in sight.
There are things, not visible,
to the naked eye.
Hidden treasures painted with time.
One stops to look and see,
everything in its entirety.
It wasn’t, until then I saw it.
The way the sun rays,
cast its light across it,
and the echoing sound of water
rushing to be somewhere.
The hidden bridge.
Disguised by twisting branches and leaves,
growing over and under it.
Yes. There it was.
A crossing to the other side
of somewhere.
– Linda J. Wolff


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Linda J. Wolff is an interurban word spinner and extrovert through many coffee-stained papers and owned by Rookie the hyperactive Pomeranian dog at Urban Poetry.

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