Leaving the city
Back and forth
Working for our dream
Letting go of what is in between
The city grew us up
In much-needed ways
Now we feel that
We must get away
Steep rent and subtle
Increase in food
All that is need for it
To come undone
What if we held on
But held back
From our dreams
Giving up for the city things
The one spot
A table in reservation
Not one close to the door
Where the wind blows
One on the other side
Where it’s warm all day
That’s the spot coveted
In New York City
Away from the door
On a cold winters day
Walk into the cafe
And hope
For a nice spot
Be clear without hesitation
Wait for nothing
Understated
How to move
In these times
Requires
Not aversions
But straight lines
Fears and hope
All mixed together
In on moment
Of letting go
Growing Up
Not growing old
Ride the train home
When the timing is just right
So the doors will open and
Step into the night
Do you think it will be a good one
The man leans in
To his friend
Hoping for a positive message back
That will be sent
On a cold day in New York City
What makes a good day
What makes a bad day
On the streets of Manhattan
Looking up at the tall buildings
While the people keep passing
I think it will be a good one
With sunshine and charity
Let’s hope for a good one
Today
I didn’t want to get going
It was a humid morning in house
Frigid out
The clatter of opening stores
With freight trucks whipping by
The cold has a different feel before
The sun
It settles a little deeper
As the day opens up
The world does as well
I have seen in my own eyes
These early New York City mornings
When all feels off
Yet it is perfectly right
Water collections
Puddles
That can potentially by cars
Keep clear of inch deep waters
Splashing from others
Falling items
Birds
Traffic
Others
Walk
The tight rope
Walk on thin ice
Manhattan Strut
In the reins of winter
Staying clear
Of the hazards
How I have learned from others
My own follies
Tried and true
Walking in the rain
I’ve learned to get through
Hopes and dreams
Pretty distant things
As in one moment
Creeps away
With speedy wings
How should I proceed
When the headlines
Read
All is headed down
Across the world
A giant frown
I guess I will just
Keep a brisk pace
And keep my own head down
Not a football type
Not a sportsman
Or a marksman
Not a fleet-footed runner
Not a Hercules
Different
But not to much
I’m the other guy
A craftsman of words
Tied up in outlandish hopes
Of artistic fancies
Guess I would rather be
Walking than dancing
Who received
The goal achieved
The investor sequestered
The average man forgotten
Kick-backs
Go all the way to the top
Not to the saved
But to the saving
Not to be returned
Kick backs stale
Kick backs burned
A Cup of Songwriting 