They stood before a magic place
on a frigid, frantic night.
In the shadow of tall buildings,
by the giant Christmas tree,
they watched the skaters with delight.
Two little girls from a duller place,
eyed fluid waltz and frenzied race,
their mittens tracing Yule bright lights,
Manhattan style.
Their weary mother sagged behind the two.
Lost in her thoughts,
she ignored the view,
intent on dinner, package-wrapping,
ribbon, gifts untouched.
She felt one child press against her coat.
Saw a small, strange man
standing far too close,
and knew a rage, compelling,
all-consuming urge to hurt.
The cowering man slowly backed away.
The girls knew fear as mother bayed
and lunged to chase the guilty,
doomed and frightened little man.
They rounded corners in the crowd.
Few slowed the pace of
her advance on the coward.
But both girls knew that more than
Midtown madness happened here.
A blazing woman in an old cloth coat,
nailed the small, sick man with her shopping tote,
then promptly whisked her ladies
to the safety of a cab.
With trembling hands, she drew them near,
vowing never to see in Christmas here.
Wit's ending one bright rite of Yuletide...
Big Apple style.
by Reggie Morrisey (Circa 1975)
Rockefeller Center