Steel and concrete, separate dirty paved streets,

As the wind whips down to steal a sleeping girl’s sleep.

People in dreary colored garments rush to wait at each coming light,

As horns sound the impatient taxi driver’s plight.

The streets of New York are at their fullest,

As high above, the quiet observers are the weekend tourists.

It’s a cold winter’s night with a hint of a colder tomorrow,

As the excitement of the city hides its alley-filled sorrows.

The smell of warming chestnuts and over-cooked, day-old hot dogs,

Fill the air and tempts the palate of the vacationing mob.

It’s Christmas time again and colored lights bring us all smiles,

But only to those without cares who have traveled many miles.

Lovers walk hand in hand nestling and rubbing noses at each corner,

Unaware that they are to many, predators who hover in doorways like owners.

New York brings to mind no where else in America for me,

But to the foreign visitor it is all America could be.

In a hotel room nineteen floors up, an angel sleeps.

Tired from her day of travel and seeing all that she could see.

Without the strength to walk the streets with her man of the week,

She lies warm now on the bed, Sore back, sore legs sore feet.

 Dreams of happy times makes her body slightly quake,

And it seems a shame that she will soon have to wake.

But with the night comes adventure, good food and a new play,

So she will surely be energized for the rest of the day.

For it is New York, that holds her heart and makes her care,

For it is New York, that fills her with passion, her true love affair.