Diana Kierce

Pacheco, California

The Golden Gate Bridge

Over fifty years ago I was born, They said it could not be, I was only a dream that men adorn, In this free and proud country. Then with sweat on brows, And bearing work so bold, These brave men made me somehow, With gusts of winds so cold. Crackling steel and concrete mix, I grew from beam to brim, Closing up the gap of sea, From San Francisco to Marin. Ships sail in and out of port, Between my rugged shores, Bringing foreign goods of sort, And tourists by the scores. Families come from far-off land, Amazed at what they see, A landmark made by man, A living symbol of reality. With a breathtaking view, Near a steep rocky ridge, White capped waves swirling through, Yes, I am the Golden Gate Bridge.
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