"405 Symphony: Jammed Dreams and Sunset Gleams"

In the heart of the city's restless hum,

Where dreams and taillights merge as one,

Beneath the endless Californian sun,

I find myself on the 405 undone.

A sea of brake lights paints the scene,

As metal serpents crawl in between,

Lanes that stretch, an asphalt stream,

A captive audience, lost in the dream.

Concrete canyons echo with the sound,

Engines idling, hopes abound,

Beneath the smoggy haze that's found,

In the city's grip, we are tightly bound.

The clock ticks on, the minutes pass,

As asphalt inches slow and vast,

A symphony of honks and gasps,

In the traffic maze, our patience clasps.

Billboards rising to the skies,

Advertise the dream that never dies,

Yet here we sit, beneath the lies,

Of a freeway's promise, in traffic ties.

The 405, a ribbon of delay,

Where time itself seems to decay,

In the midst of cars that block the way,

As frustrations rise in shades of gray.

But amid the chaos, there's a chance,

To find a moment, a fleeting dance,

Between the lanes, a hopeful trance,

A silver lining in the traffic expanse.

Gaze upon the sunset glow,

Through the windshield's tempered show,

An urban canvas in traffic's flow,

Where patience blooms, and moments grow.

So, in this tangle of delay,

Let thoughts of freedom guide the way,

For even in the grip of the 405's sway,

A poem unfolds in the sun's last ray.