FRANCIS SCOTT KEY BRIDGE

Beneath the arches of the Francis Scott Key,

A tragedy unfolds, in the heart of the sea.

The bridge, once a symbol of strength and might,

Now crumbles and falls, in the dead of night.

Construction workers, their hands at the helm,

Toiled day and night, to build the realm.

But fate had other plans, a cruel twist of fate,

As the bridge gave way, sealing their fate.

Amidst the wreckage, their cries echo loud,

As the bridge collapses, a shroud.

Their voices silenced, their dreams cut short,

As the darkness claims them, without retort.

Their families mourn, their hearts torn asunder,

As they grapple with loss, a thunder.

For the bridge, once a symbol of hope and pride,

Now stands as a monument, to those who died.

In the aftermath, questions arise,

As the nation mourns, with tear-filled eyes.

How could this happen, they ask in despair,

As they search for answers, in the air.

But amidst the sorrow, a beacon of light,

As the community rallies, with all its might.

To honor the fallen, to remember their name,

And ensure that their sacrifice was not in vain.

For though the Francis Scott Key bridge may fall,

Its spirit lives on, standing tall.

As a reminder of the fragility of life,

And the resilience of the human strife.