In streets where dreams are often deferred,
He painted pictures with his pen,
A voice for those who were unheard,
In verses strong, he spoke for men.

From fields of cotton, chains that bind,
To urban lights and jazz-filled nights,
He captured stories of his kind,
Illuminating their plights and rights.

With every line, he broke the chains,
Of prejudice and silent screams,
His words like cleansing summer rains,
Revived the hope within their dreams.

Langston Hughes, the poet bold,
His legacy of race and grace,
Through time his stories will be told,
A beacon for the human race.