Just an Observation

Mothers of New York

are a fascinating breed. 

There’s a certain 

pulse – rhythm – balance

about them that is 

found in none other. 

They charge through crowds

as a ballerina leaps across stages, 

attempting to defy 

gravity and Elphaba. 

Even Hell would head

for the hills if it 

threatened their City child. 

Their motherly ferocity

runs on Starbucks 

and Manolo Blahniks

and a dash of 

street cred, too. 

So don’t mess with ’em. 

And, for Chanel’s sake,

watch out for their strollers. 


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