After The Rain

Life will warn you when a storm is coming.
Unfortunately, when it rains it pours. 
Just like a outside my window.

Sirens sometimes sound. 
Overtaking our peace of mind. 

Taking slices out of our pieces of pie. 
Or even our fingers. 

This life ain't easy sometimes. 

Like being a single mom.

But it's amazing how much grace God has on us especially when we feel like we are behind. 

Time seems to drag. 

Not enough money to even graduate from window shopping to throwing it in a bag. 

The wealthy talk of popping designer clothing tags,

While some of us just wish we could pop the bubble we seem to be in.


Many can't relate. 
Not because they can't but just because they choose. 

We know that life ain't no crystal stair and to take a walk in these southern shoes would give B.B. King's chil'ren the blues. 

But I know this rain is temporary.

For they say that the sun shines on a dog's ass some days.

So I beckon the sun's rays to raise your spirit.

Raise our spirit from the dark depths of dug ditches.

We have been working in these trenches too long.

Thank God for our children. 

See, that smile on their face will always erase the dilapidated  bank situation.

Make beauty out of a dirty room.

Make stale men go waywards.

Our children what keeps us going.

Keeps us growing and knowing that today has enough joys and sorrows and tomorrow will be dealt with accordingly.

Love is not a thing we have to afford.  It's free.

Choice and will is ours to control. 

Destiny is beautiful.  Pain is only pain and would be without definition if it wasnt for the child that could hold their own. 

Now that's Love. 

So why don't we all, have a "Local" meal and spill our issues out on the table of love so that we can see the other side of ourselves.

Funny how peaceful life is...

After the rain!

Clothed In Love

 

Her pants mimic the color of love.
Her feet are comfortably crossed upon this L Train Thang. Brooklyn-Bound.

See, I found her sitting just to my upper left.
Right foot crossed by left.
Both of her hands in black jacket pockets.

Her hair.
Long.
Bold.
Blond.
Beautiful.

With facial features fond to those who sit next to her.

She is warm.
Her spirit is light like if you were listening close enough you could hear it humming by your ear drum. She's calm and as we surface at Bedford she is dry and beautiful.
Cut from an unusual part of the Brooklyn Night Life puzzle though I am not puzzled.

Just aware.

We slosh through the Williamburg streets.
Me? On my way to grace the microphone with poetry and she?
Already graciously gracing the Earth's microphone with the essence of her poetry. 

Inspired I am, by the being of her. 
For her movements are those of oneness. 
And I have no other choice but to crown her just as I found her. 

Clothed in Love.