Excellent Life goes on, no matter where, no matter when The Morning After by estory

Newspapers bring News of the world While commuter trains Carry the commuters Off to their banks And brokerage houses, Offices up in the high rises, Factories, fast food And wi-fi hot spots, While the weekend is swept up From the gutters.   And yes, there's the rush hour Making its frustrating way Over the superhighways As it has done for decades, Charting a course by radio Through the city that never sleeps.   Every Monday morning It seems the world starts over again And one sets off along with it No matter where one came from Or knowing where one is going, Only that another night Is the only certainty.   It seems the more things move The more they stay the same, Like the sun rising And rising, day after day, Out of the grey waters of Sheepshead Bay. Recognized Author Notes This is a poem that I think celebrates the hopes and joys of life, its tenacity, in the face of monotony and the daily grind of the week in week out rat race. I thought some images of my home town, New York, would capture the look and feel of that monotonous grind. So we have here the references to the rush hour, the high rises, the endless rise and fall of the stock market, and the timeless waters of Sheepshead Bay, on the south shore of Brooklyn. All week long we seem to drag ourselves in the hope of the weekend, and then, after a brief respite, it's back to the endless grind. But on this long journey are the glimpses of light, the songs on the radio, the soaring architecture and the burgers and fries we cherish along the way. estory

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