“For the love of art!” you say?
Or perhaps for the love of crochet.
So many stitches taken by so many fingers!
Large hands and small, old and young.
Rich and poor, professional and…not.
Colors chosen with abandon, destined to wrap
A railing? What kind of hug is that?
Those who cross these bridges day to day,
Who watched the transformation as it bloomed.
Did you resent the change in point of view,
The gaudy colors hiding well-loved lines?
And at the end, perhaps you breathed a sigh
Of thanks, that once again the spare, clean bones
Of the bridge were yours to love again.