Coming Home

I saw the orange glow of the setting sun meet the rooftops,
And I felt the calm of the skyline, at dusk, beckon me.
The city that I come home to is not the same city that you fear.
The city that I know is the community that raised me, the culture that made me, and the people that gave me opportunity, despite the egocentricity of our time.
So, I’m not impressed by your two car garage, and your single family home,
Because the asphalt jungle is my urban oasis; where the concrete playground was my field of dreams, where the one way street hosted my superbowl, and where I shot my hoop dreams through a hollowed milk crate.
Wonderfully worn, and beautifully burdened is how I see my city as I come and go, and come again; and again I’ll come home.