By Bud Koenemund
For New York City
Emerging from Mister Holland’s Tunnel,
I open the windows and take a deep
Breath, relishing City air in my lungs –
Savoring aromas as mem’ries creep
Through my mind, re-igniting the spirit.
I’ve missed this place; its electricity
Defying description – an infinite
Power source to fuel creativity.
Psychedelic allegory abounds;
Similes, like rain, stream off the rooftops,
O’erwhelming sense, as metaphors resound;
Echoing off every street and shop.
I sing to
celebrate my soul’s rebirth
the crossroads of the Universe.