I suppose I will write a sonnet. On
This bridge overlooking the beautiful
River, watching the rare midnight stroll drawn
Past my vantage point. Lovers in the full
And furious act of discovery,
Each new exchange giving another chance
To find that they are matched so perfectly,
To dream about the day they'll visit France,
And quickly walk away from the weird guy
Looking at them from the ledge. I can hear
The city's slumber, I can feel it lie
Down for a short break, to shake off the fear.
And now the bridge asks, as I stand on it.
Will I jump, or will I write a sonnet?