Vacation Poem by Barry Van Allen

In the bright amber light of the evening,
before night, after that night,
... with so many stars,
it is hard to conceive ever leaving,
... going back to pretend a new start.

In the trees of New York there are squirrels,
in the streets of New York there are more,
but her beauty abounds,
on her still virgin grounds,
in her lakes void of sounds,
... from the city.

In the still amber light of the evening,
I see visions of love in the leaves,
... submerged in our urges,
... but lacking in courage,
to do what it takes to be free.

In the dark amber light of the evening,
we are drawn to the bond again made,
... for two weeks per year,
... we're allowed to be free,
to be loved and to love in the shade.