I miss the taxis
I miss the fun
I miss the city
When I was young.

It’s been so long now
It’s been awhile.
I still remember
It makes me smile.

The smell of coffee
The bakery rolls
The people passing
I miss the cold.

The corner stores
The pizza pies
The ethnic smells
The clouded skies

The crowded subways
The busy streets
The cop that walks
The same old beat.

Central Park
The Broadway Shows
Hidden treasures
So few know.

I was privileged
To live there
I was happy
Without a care.

The hustle bustle
All of the sounds
It was the best
The best of towns.


Image from Google Images:

Author: Patty Richardson

Writer: Film scripts, poetry, short stories.

8 thoughts on “NYC”

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