Softly we sit in this shadow of Manhattan,
Holding on to dreams we know will never happen,
But still we struggle on,
Still we struggle on.
Like Langston Hughes writing in the pews,
Sweet words into poems we’ll all listen to,
But we will move along.
Baby fly away with me,
To New York City,
We’ll leave this little Harlem of our lives.
This is just a quick little thing. I was sitting in my english class and all of a sudden it hit me. We were talking about Langston Hughes and his poem where he speaks of moving to New York City and eating air for breakfast (because he’s living in Harlem and is so poor). And I tried to relate that to life and love. Living in a Harlem, in the shadows of Manhattan.