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The roads are jammed; the traffic crawls And rain clouds fill the sky. The cars are crammed and, on the walls, Graffiti passes by. The cabbie shrugs, “That’s how it goes” As we head slowly home, The morning’s hugs, you might suppose The highlight of the poem. Yet sunny skies and swaying palms Don’t equal paradise, So don’t surmise that lifestyle calms, Though while you’re there it’s nice. New York has faults and though it’s true That life here can be hard, You can’t just waltz through what you do; It’s tough in that regard. For where you live is in your bones – The good parts and the not, So you forgive what causes moans And deal with what you’ve got.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 5/21/2025 4:14:00 PM
Ilene, this poem carries the scent of your poetic fragrance.. practical, well composed, and always a hint (at least) of humor. You’re a beautiful and prolific writer and the kind of person I think I would enjoy very much in the real world. And if I did, I’d bring my guitar and play and sing you and song you like. Bet we would laugh a lot, hug, and look forward to the next time we got together. You feel like an anchor in this crazy world and someone I might ask for advice if my world was coming undone. Until then you will supply me with much practical insight and good humor through your delightful works. So grateful for u!
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Ilene Bauer
Date: 5/22/2025 1:52:00 PM
wow! with a comment like that, i can be floating for quite a while. thank you, lyric man, for those lovely sentiments...

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