About the Poem
NYC is notoriously known as a bad city, but while stuck in traffic and horns ablaring, I got some of my best thoughts done. I wrote this poem in my head, just thinking how insignificant we are to each other. I looked into other people's car windows, saw people arguing, saw people singing along to music, and I thought how different everybody is. Of course this happened while the sun was setting, sort of giving everything a different perspective, how the city isn't what it's usually like when the sun sets.
Sun Sets In The City |
| by Peter Hughes |
| The light fades to a dull red, The sun slips into it's covers, And lets the moon do the night shift. The street lights buzz to a certain glow, The cars turn their headlights on. The lawyers head to home to their condos, The homeless men crawl into their sleeping bags, Another night in the cold. The GWB turns on it's nightlights, Just to let all the planes know. The subways clear out, Leaving only those few stragglers behind, Waiting for the A train uptown, You see, because when the sun sets in the city, The city that never sleeps, Takes a little nap |
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