Blizzard in Times Square
in so many slivery, flakes,
filling the air,
through the mist -
breath frozen momentarily upon the air.
Dimly I see,
red and green moons,
rise and set,
like in a winter carnival.
The many neon lights,
flicker, flicker in the night,
inviting people to come and hide,
away from the storm,
where people forget their troubles,
and dancing through the night.
Not even a blizzard through Times Square,
will keep the crowds away,
the snow keeps falling,
the people keep calling -
during the dark, gray of the day.
Only traffic seems at a stand still
and for some moments,
there is white snow beneath my feet.
Somewhere through it all,
the empty, dark windows,
of the skyscrapers appear and disappear,
like in a House of Mirrors.
It seems that the dancing snowflakes,
hang, turning in the air,
looking for a quieter place to land,
perhaps in a garden,
far from Times Square,
where they will be trampled,
by thousands of feet
and become as black as can be.
When cars start making the snow,
just for awhile there is a kind of hush
and for now, for now it’s magic -
this crazy snow dance goes on.
Is it just me who sees the fantasy?
Angry faces slide by,
slipping and sliding along.
I go twirling and dancing,
for only in a blizzard in New York,
can you dance so freely in Times Square
and for awhile you get lost,
in the streets of New York.
Where in the blizzard,
a strange kind of quiet descends
and if you let your fantasy take over,
you can leave Times Square behind,
drift down toward the East River
and get lost in the blizzard -
lost on the streets of New York.
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© 2018 Gypsy Rose Lee