Dreaming Of New York

         
Out of a crowd she steps,
waving my way, whose memory
is as blinding as the sun.

Believing love would keep us
young, I lost my heart
once in her arms dancing till dawn.

She takes my hand
to lead me home. I dare not
stare at her bright skyline long.





The Crossing: Returning to New York 


We cautiously approach
the first broad street
the way a faithful crew
will navigate a raging sea--

raising voices, singing
praise—skyscrapers
like great walls of water
parting at our sides.