“The Watcher Beneath the Bridge”

A bridge hums softly above the sleeping road,

its iron ribs holding the weight of passing lives—

unaware.

Below, in the hush between footsteps and headlights,

something ancient breathes in the dark.

Not born of earth, nor entirely of shadow,

it waits—

stitched from silence, fog, and forgotten fears.

Eyes like distant lamps flicker open,

patient as time itself.

It does not chase.

It does not call.

It simply watches…

for the moment you look down.