Rose Bruno Bailey

Hushed

I don’t have a great deal to say, 

unusual for my nature. 

I just linger and observe 

all the fast moving city creatures.

 

Silence stalks, curbs runaway 

thoughts from creating musings into masterpieces. 

It is the last lush of the season, 

I may not see another east coast fall; 

change comes on slowly-  

then runs you over. 

Elderly people laugh and play the 

cards time has dealt them. 

We are all old. We are all young.  

Pseudo age, pretend youth.

caught between two worlds. 

Just another day lost within my mind 

during a fleeting New York Minute.