The Obama Serenades XIV

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The nod, the knowing smile of an old man in a stoop; it is the leaden weight of piebald years, the leaden weight of memories rooted in stygian depths of time… between the crooked crotch of East and West Harlem, a briar patch where life in the Big Apple began… a poodle’s poop dropped carelessly in walkways of those eternally condemned to stand, tip-toe, and stare at owners of crystal balls… a gray patch between dreams and a forbidding trance, the knowing smile of those who must give and give until there remains naught else to give… 7/23/09 Credit: Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr. [Email: Okoampaahoofe@aol.com

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DISCLAIMER: The Views, Comments, Opinions, Contributions and Statements made by Readers and Contributors on this platform do not necessarily represent the views or policy of Multimedia Group Limited.