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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=566736" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Notes From the Village</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bleecker Street <br>just before <br>October dawn, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Winking <br>corner stoplight <br>flashing only red <br>to vacant Sunday <br>streets, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old newspaper <br>Blowing, <br>unread, <br>down empty sidewalk <br>of hangover morning, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gusts of New York <br>Puffing down sad alleys <br>Of broken amber glass, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor kitty, <br>Mad with fright, <br>Poor kitty, <br>Hidden from sight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hands in my pockets, <br>Coat collar high, <br>i bow into the <br>Callous autumn wind, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Past the frigid lights <br>And locked doors <br>Of last night’s <br>Cafes, <br>Yesterday’s <br>bookstalls, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Smells of impending <br>Rain waft through <br>Red brick <br>And hang like <br>Moldy rags <br>Above the lamp posts. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Facing the creaking <br>Branches of <br>Washington Square, <br>I see old friends’ <br>Faces in <br>The yellow-orange <br>Leaves of fall, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unseen, <br>Unknown, <br>I glide, <br>Wispy and ghost-like, <br>Sailing past an Atlantic <br>Sunrise, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">& the rest of my <br>Brittle life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Terry+L.+Young">Terry L. Young</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=566736" data-title="Notes From the Village de Terry L. Young" data-description="Bleecker Street 
just before 
October dawn, 

Winking 
corner stoplight 
flashing only red 
to vacant Sunday 
streets, 

Old newspaper 
Blowing, 
unread, 
down empty sidewalk 
of hangover morning, 

Gusts of New York 
Puffing down sad alleys 
Of b..."></div>
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