Poem: A City Dreaming of Itself

My dreamer listens
To the song of the city
That pretends it never sleeps
Calling out with the multitude
Of strangers voices in a choir
With cars and sirens and noise
Cacophonous to untrained ears
To my dreamer it’s a lullaby
From an ever watchful mother
Who is always near gently rocking
With arms of chaos soothing
Her natural born children
Made of hot steamy asphalt
And towers of soaring concrete
Firmly grounded in her foundations
Laid to support growth ever upward
To peer over the brownstone crowns
Of lesser beings to see

The endless lengths of the ocean to the east
With the waning arc of the sun to the west
The dreamer rests somewhere in between

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.

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