Downtown
The tour guides hold their flags aloft
And tourists, like a herd,
Stick close together, hanging onto
Every single word.
They stop right by the Stock Exchange,
The cellphone cameras snapping,
Then watch their charges grab the bull
‘Midst giggling and clapping.
But meanwhile, the New Yorkers,
Both the natives and the new,
Quickly walk right by; their strides imply
It’s what they’ve gotta do.
They take no note of statues,
Famous buildings or the church.
A path around the tourists is
The object of their search.
It’s the same with any city –
Though the visitors may stare
At the famous sights, the residents
Don’t have the time to care.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
