It starts with a missed beat;
A percussive cue lost in the cacophony of city-
scape parades marching to the tune of buzzing phones
and running late for plans we wished we canceled.
A slip-up, mishap, or inaudible oops
Tripping over muscle memory toes while heading to
A coffee shop your brain forgets but your taste buds remember,
And suddenly invisible quarter rest traffic lights and eighth note
Passers-by burst into view,
Chorus of a song you long forgot to listen to.
Lyrics faded into the background as you joined in
Unknowingly to the pitter patter piano feet pursuing
Someone else's dreams, unaware of your own lurking around
Every bodega-perched corner.
Every taxi makes up a horn section,
The ding of an opening door to department stores a
Beautiful chime
Clothing lines between buildings strummed by
the wind tunnels
Guitar chords and violin pizzicato accompany
The thrumming backbeat that runs the entire city
The staccato pulse carried by every person who steps foot into the
Free urban symphony,
Choir singers in an indescribable round of hope
Under the city skyline.