Take a late ride on the Staten Island ferry.
Don't you hear it call?
The lights from the glass city.
Let the noise of the home bound drown,
As the view leaves you spellbound.
A bold claim: A city where dreams are made.
Even the possibility, one would not trade.
What would it be like?
CEO, Stock broker, artist or socialite?
Armed with my pen is the path I’d take.
Poems, novels, screenplays I’d curate.
Can’t slack off now there’s worlds to create.
A hopeful message for the masses hoping to liberate.
It’s all around, the Charging Bull greets.
As you journey through stone streets;
Exotic faces, a muse you hope to meet.
Distinct architecture, museums, art galleries,
Concerts, plays and stand-up comedies.
What truly beckons from yonder is beyond the lights,
Be consumed by the art of life.
What the nights bring is yet to unfold,
A quest to birth a story never been told.
Trudie
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