Walking down forty-second street
There are a thousand, thousand feet;
All of them marching to the beat
Of all the business of the day.
I find I’m floating ‘gainst the flow
Of all these people I don’t know,
Collecting frowns from them as though
It’s me who’s getting in their way.
From every corner there come cries
To buy a hot dog, buy these pies.
Not far ahead a pigeon flies;
More confident than I can be.
I’m lost and smothered in this crowd
This faceless mass – this face in shroud
And I could almost shout aloud
Just to make someone speak to me.
Well, I won't be lost in this throng,
Won't change myself just to belong.
Decision made - I'll hold it strong:
Being myself will set me free.
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My short story for the contest is called People Watching and can be found here: post764052.html#p764052
