Young King

8 x 10 graphite on paper. 

n the heart of the city, where the sun meets the street, Stands a young black king with rhythm in his feet. His crown isn't gold, it’s the curls in his hair, His throne isn't stone, it’s the dreams that he dares.

With a gaze full of wisdom and eyes that gleam bright, He walks with a purpose, a beacon of light. His skin tells a story, rich with deep roots, A legacy crafted in earth's finest suits.