Sitting in Bryant Park, green chairs creaking,
Taste of France Balloon is à la ReMax.
Chatting about nothing for once,
Just listening and breathing.
Walking so many blocks,
Missing that being a daily norm.
Weaving our way through tourists,
Just two girls on the way to the subway.
It gets better with time, they say,
Your heart will come out of your throat.
It used to happen immediately in Grand Central,
Just Times Square now and just with red shirts selling tickets.
Took the subway back downtown,
Walked from Times Square again because I could.
All the way to the lower East Side,
Just reclaiming my streets with each stride.
~submitted by a student who prefers to remain anonymous
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