Wilson Light Tunnel

Bridge under my feet,

Steady as I go,

Bathed in colors bright,

Marveling as I go.



Borealis of,

Houston’s underground,

Others laugh and speak,

I can’t make a sound.

But, oh...


I could hide away,

In this tunnel bright,

Making my new home,

Out of colored light.


Won’t you stay with me,

In the underground,

Vibrant paradise,

Here that we have found?


This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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