Yet with sun to spare and her collection of wares,
A brief tune of her song bird's voice would make you believe that a summer's day was intended for such a sweet northern sparrow.
And as she flew away into the distance of the wide green expanse,
We walked on into the sun,
Sweat crying from our skin,
We are nursed back to health by the sweet touch of the almighty god A/C,
But we go on,
Away from His chilling fingers,
Twisting in and out of this too ripe apple.
With every juicy bite we find soft bruises,
Travelling down deep to the core.
Sweet and foul aromas contend for our attention.
Our eyes are captivated by the constant glow and flash of lights,
Forever illuminating the city that never sleeps.
A car horn,
Millions of voices make the hum of the city drum at our ears,
Frustrating our senses,
But in the night when the sun goes down,
Leaving to rest its weary head,
The residual warmth wraps us up and draws us out tenderly into the night.
As the city continues to churn and burn,
We fly further and further into the flame,
Into the net.
There are tired eyes and tired bodies at rest all around and in the distance.
As the lucky disregard their sleepy rights,
Unfortunate eyes close their lids to the turning all around and lay their heads down on the concrete steps.
And in the hustle and bustle souls move in and out of frame, slipping through the cracks,
The watchman at his post announces the arrival of the A train to deaf ears.
A car horn,
Snapped back into reality,
Or slipping further into a dream?
The shadows of the buildings creep across my heart and leave an explainable longing,
And a song bird calls me out of the distance,
Suddenly recalling the magic of this place.
As each new footstep leaves a mark on the jungle floor,
A light goes on in big, and little boys and girls eyes,
As they ask their question...
Was this place made for me?