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.