The mild hum of cars in the distance.
A siren calls out
The scent of food drifts with the flowing wind.
Cultures mix in the aroma
Low hanging light clings to the darkness.
Brightening the black
People Murmur,
Fight,
Love,
Share
And Coexist.
This is a concrete jungle
A labyrinth of paved paths
A world of opportunities
Some seized,
Others missed.
Where colored lines mingle
But do not mix.
History meets the future,
And it all looks wicked good.
This is my home...
This is Boston.
