Poems ✍️

Dolan's Nook cafe, on The City's west-side by the Hudson;
people come for joe, squak... the Wall Street Journal.
Meanwhile, outside,
on the riverside patio,
two elderly women,
friends since Dwight,
gossip o'er Gaelic roast-
while musing 'bout Ellis
and and the copper robed Lady;
admiringher crown
towering o'er the River,
while sipping Irish Coffee
by a fisherman's sunset,
an artist's purest view
of New York Harbor,
where Sunsets and Liberty
paint the twilight simpatico.

Admiring the Lady, in her long stunningdrape,
arm stretched high,
with her amber torch glistening
off the falling Sun,
of the fresh evening's scape.

Said one woman to the other...quite casually,
her aged eye's affixed
upon beauty's paragon:
"This is why we can sit here
in the freedom of Liberty's air".

Said the other, nodding and smilingwith every word from the lips of her friend:
"So true my dear.. so very true indeed...as true as true can be.
But the question in my mind is: Do you think Bartholdi could've brewed good Irish Coffee?

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© Frank James Ryan, Jr.
All Rights Reserved- MMXVIII