Photo Credit: Grufnik
The sun peeks out of the horizon, saying “Good Morning”.
But the city is already awake.
The Subway trains slow into the station,
birds in Central Park chirp tunes
and Broadway signs flicker with life.
Blue dotted curtains on apartment windows open,
letting the light flood into their homes.
Cars already fill the streets,
scattered sounds filling the New England air.
The paper stands are open,
today’s news broadcasted across the busy sidewalks.
Doors open and close,
people come and go.
Young and old,
men and women.
Nothing divides them.
Trains pull out of the station,
streaking across the city with no time to lose.
Passing through the city,
slicing the cold early-spring air,
the train speeds across the tracks.
It’s old engine groans with protest, but keeps going.
The engineer urges,
trying to push the train.
It presses on.
And finally the train slows,
the station in sight. As the train squeals to a stop,
passengers walk off the train, the intercom welcoming them.
“Welcome to The City of Dreams.”