Sunday Minutes In Bryant Park (A NYC Story) by Gloria Buono-Daly (c) 2024

(Verse 1)
Sunday minutes in Bryant Park,
Daylight shines, never dark.
Waiting here in New York City midtown,
Watching the world as it spins around.

(Pre Chorus 1)

Time slows down, in the midst of  crowds,
City whispers, but I stay proud.
Where the noise fades, I find my place,
Writing stories in this endless space.

(Chorus 1)
Round and round, life moves fast,
I sit and watch, let moments last.
Stretch, relax, mind drifts free,
Writing down what life lets me see.

(Verse 2)
Ladies walk with umbrellas wide,
No raindrops falling, just their pride.
Pigeons peck, the people stare,
Necks are turning everywhere.

(Pre Chorus2)

Every step echoes through the park,
Chasing dreams beneath the skyline’s spark.
In the stillness, I hear the sound,
Of a city where moments are found.

(Chorus 2)
Round and round, the world won’t wait,

I sit and watch, let time dictate.

Stretch, unwind, just let it be,

Writing down what life shows me.

(Verse 3)
New grass grows, the shrubs stand tall,
Fountain flows, but no coins fall.
The park man blows the dust away,
Still, it lingers where I stay.
(Pre Chorus3)

The world spins fast, but here I stand,
Watching life unfold like shifting sand.
In the hustle, I take my time,
Writing down what’s mine to find.

(Chorus 3)
Round and round, the stories flow,
Moments come, then off they go.

City hums, life drifts free,

Writing down what it means to me.

(Bridge - Instrumental Break, Light Guitar & Piano)
Children laugh, the Carousel spins,
Soft wind sways, the day begins.
Somewhere close, a peddler tries,
Selling dreams with hopeful eyes...mesmerize...

(Verse 4)
Cigarette smoke drifts through the air,
A cigar lights up without a care.
Strangers grin, some stare and smirk,
City life—its quirks, its work.

(Final Chorus 4)

Round and round, the days will fade,
But memories shine, they never stray.
Footsteps echo, hearts beat free,
Bryant Park still speaks to me.

(Outro - Soft, Reflective Fade)
Then my friends, they finally show,
We walk away, the pages close.
I write “the end,” but it’s not through,
A New York Story will always renew.