N.Y.C- Stella D’Vine

The humming of tires, the lullaby that rocks me to sleep.

The beautiful evening glow of the perfect sunset.

The pinkish orange rays wrapping themselves against the buildings.

It’s a true beauty to watch as it becomes alive in the night time.

Wherever you go there is music played in a rhythm only known to N.Y.C dwellers.

The hissing of smoke as pipes clang all about underneath the streets.

The yelling and hollering of friends upon friends.

Where the Spanish rice and the Smokey pork making them salivate.

N.Y.C in the prime.

The inner beauty of steel and the smell of smog and copper.

The separations of different gangs and rivals.

The internal clockwork of winding streets and commotion.

The beauty of N.Y.C is unreal.

Filled with the rhythm of life and the swarming of strays.

It is beauty in a jar.

The correlation of rugged and debris.

The smart and the bold.

The tolerant and thrill seekers.

The night time.

And the people of New York City.