Sparkly rocks stud the plush green garden

I follow footpaths under stone archways

holding myself still so I can breath Spring.


He led the people out of their slum,

tore down the squalor,

left them to wander alone.


I stroll through Central Park and

every tulip blooms from a dark footprint

he planted lily’s over their great grandfathers too.


Coming back late in the starless night

they discovered a park instead of a home,

benches with dividers instead of beds.


Walking through the majesty

little children get tender feet

and they don’t know why.


The Jewel of New York City, glistening.