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Concrete children unfolding like roses,
they crumble, tumble while skipping their rope.
Too unsure to smile, so unready to run.
Dry rope frays in the splitting sun.
Clouds flee to the cracks
chasing the transients down forsaken roads.
Uneasy smiles and forgotten eyes scan brick pavement
for gold coins spewed from the towers.
Car and truck horns, sirens wail,and tenants cursing
create this New York song.
Could you imagine holding just one?
Their petals close tenderly as the city falls to sleep.




