New Keys in My Hand

Same block, new keys in my hand
Same block, still know where I stand
I didn't come back just to show what I got
I brought something home to the same block

Black car slow by the corner store
Black car slow by the corner store
Blue bench leaning like it did before
Loose left bolt and the names cut deep
That's where I planned while I missed that week
Mr. James waved from the barber-chair glass
Girl sold candy from a book-filled bag
Old men paused when the wheels rolled clean
Waiting for a show I did not mean
I parked by the curb, put both feet down
Same cracked pavement, same bus-stop sound
Success feels strange when the roots look back
Like a mirror remembering what the suit can't mask

No parade
No speech
If I came home
I came to reach

Same block, new keys in my hand
Same block, still know where I stand
I didn't come back just to show what I got
I brought something home to the same block

Keys opened doors in the building on five
Six desks, night class, heat running right
One room wired for the kids to record
One back office for forms and support
Young Dre fixed the bench before the rain
Said, “You sat right here almost every day”
I said, “That's true — and I still might”
Then we tightened that bolt under streetlamp light
You can leave the block and still carry its dust
But return is a verb; it demands more than love
I didn't bring answers tied in a bow
I brought an address and a place to grow

Home did not need me
to look successful.
Home needed the key
to fit a real door.

Same block, more keys in our hands
Same block, now we own where we stand
We didn't come back just to show what we got
We built something here on the same block

Come in.