PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In ’05’s golden glow, the doors swung wide,  

A Harlem daughter crowned in graceful flame;  

She laid the table, drawing all inside,  

With love—the quiet labor beyond a name.  

The neighborhood’s deep pulse, a Sunday song,  

Where warmth arrives before a word is heard;  

The weary learn this is where they belong,  

Their hidden hungers answered, soul conferred.  

She gathered wisdom from the legends past—  

From Windows’ heights to Sylvia’s storied pride;  

Then shaped a legacy both built to last,  

With Harlem’s banner lifted, amplified.  

So linger, traveler; let your spirit rest.  

At Melba’s, all the world becomes her guest.