Not a grand flood, but a gentle stream,
Love for you flows, a growing theme.
Each shared moment, a tiny stone,
Building a bridge we walk upon.

A whispered joke, a hand held tight,
Weaving a bond, bathed in soft light.
Trust, like a seed, takes root unseen,
Blooming in smiles, a vibrant scene.

Not a wildfire, but embers warm,
Love for you grows, safe from the storm.
To love you little by little
that keeps me warm

Night's velvet cloak, a sudden tear,
A burst of light, dispelling fear.
Shadows retreat, their secrets hide,
The world was unveiled, with no place to hide.

Dreams linger still in a sleepy haze,
The stage reset for brighter days.
Yawns replace the lullaby,
Reality paints the morning sky.

With a single click, a world is reborn,
From hushed dreams to bustling morn.
Still, my heart breathes fire
Only when the lights turn on

A vibrancy fades, a hush descends,
Laughter once bright, now barely lends
A spark to the eyes, once alight.
Conversations, dimmed by the night.

Warmth cools to a whisper, a sigh,
A touch that once sent shivers by
Now lingers, a ghost in its wake.
Hearts beat a rhythm, a silent ache.

Is this love's twilight, a fading hue?
Can dawn chase the shadows anew?
Only when love is turning blue

Each step a whisper, a heart's soft beat,
The map unfolds, the path less steep.
Stars as our guide, a distant gleam,
We chase the horizon, a waking dream.

Doubt lingers near, a fleeting shade,
But passion's fire, cannot fade.
With every sunrise, a renewed vow,
Inch by inch, closer somehow.

The summit beckons, bathed in gold,
Our dreams take flight, a story told.
Yes, we get closer to our dreams tonight

Cracks in our walls, bathed in light,
Fractures we feared, healed just right.
Weathered by storms, hand in hand,
Bloomed in a love we unplanned.

Brokenness woven, a tapestry bright,
Scars whispering tales in the night.
Together we rose, strong and true,
A flawed masterpiece, me and you.
When we have turned into something beautiful

every
word and thought
brands the mark of slavery
the mark of Satan
the mark of the beast
upon
their backs and shoulders
of a stolen People
from
the
sweet Motherland of Africa
without
being breastfed anymore
shall
hoist the sails of slave ships
bound for
the
new world

Ink bleeds whispers, secrets kept,
A story on paper, unslept.
Words like windows, veiled, and thin,
Reflecting a soul held within.

Eyes, unseen, guide every line,
A silent observer, entwined.
Their gaze shapes the moonlit tide,
Emotions in verses confide.

They watch as the reader takes hold,
A story unfolds, to be told.
Springs from the fresh eyes behind the poem