Longacre Square

Longacre Square


City streets, bright lights,
working folks and entertainers.
Fire trucks and horse drawn carriages,
homeless folks and five star savages.

Motor cars and limousines,
jaywalkers and pedestrians.
Their paths are disordered,
yet they all find their quarters.

Every time I cross this way,
my troubles seem to fade away.
Moving briskly, no time to speak,
all these people, what do they seek.

A place like this, is like no other,
for here we have become a number.
No names spoken, no hometown,
only meandering and looking around.

I try to come here from time to time,
for this reminds me, this time is mine.
And like no other, perhaps unordinary,
this time is only momentary.