In Harlem’s heart, a voice arose,
With words that sang and dreams that glowed,
Through struggles deep and hopes untold,
Langston’s pen spoke stories bold.

He painted skies of black and white,
With every stroke, he fought the fight,
For every child, for every face,
He sought a world of equal grace.

With rhythms jazzed and blues that cried,
His verses flowed, a river wide,
Across the bounds of race and time,
His legacy, a timeless rhyme.

So let us honor, let us raise,
Our voices high in Hughes’ praise,
For through his words, we find our way,
To brighter nights and fairer days.