Riding up to Harlem in a silver chariot.
Hustling & Bustling during a season of busy “cheer”.
A child laughs, a mother cries and I see the city reflected in a hobo’s eyes.
As I exit the train I hear Jazz musicians serenading commuters running by.
I hear a world of renaissance that has passed me by.
I think of this village called Harlem and feel the spirits of greats pass me by.
Can I add a stroke of paint to this village mural and contribute beauty with ashes?