The sounds, the dissonant pounds,
Drowned in constant drudge.
The honk and howl, the screech and growl,
The metal masses trudge.
The cars, the trucks, the morning rush,
The smoggy bus’s plunge.
This city, tainted pity,
A torn canvas, charcoal smudged.

I hear the breath of cold, lost leaves,
The dodging, passionate breeze,
Of all the trees, the missing greens,
Yet colors still convene.
And through my mind, with soft shut eyes,
These bright-lit skies I see.
I see the sounds; I feel the crowds,
The broken spring sung breeze.

The sounds, the boundless sounds,
Surround me so surreal.
They dance through crowds and skip around,
The orchestrated heels.
And under stars come passing cars,
Their rhythmic colored speeds.
And in the park, a man so far,
I hear his soulful read.

The symphonies of shutter speeds,
Surround me in this ocean.
Streaming, dreaming, people breathing,
Melodic sounds of motion.
A child trotting by and his mother’s sweet devotion;
A couple waltzing high, young hearts filling with emotion.

Now open eyes I realize,
This bench has lost its light.
But stars they never limit, still,
This purple city’s flight.
I write this rhyme with starlit eyes;
My painted hands are bright.
Under towers pass the hours,
Into this dark park’s night.

Matthew Cerini is a freshman majoring in Computer Arts.