My Home
Makeshift tap shoes
constructed from tops of cans,
dance to sounds of a city,
trying to gain a dollar or two.
Saxophones, trumpets, guitars
fill the air,
are carried from street to street
by the wind that comes off the
river.
This is music,
as we’ve grown up
surrounded by tunes
composed on street corners,
by names that will never be recognized
as anything more than “just another” street
performer.
This is New Orleans,
a sinking city
with music that lifts up spirits,
which have been brought down over the years.
This is home.
Darby, age 16