Beautiful Black Rose

She rose from her covers that winter morn

The hard cold floor felt like a bed of thorns

Her feet were use to it, at least I assume

This was her daily ritual, to their tiny bathroom

Where she peered into the cracked mirror

and bathed in the sink

Where she enjoyed the quiet of the morning,

a place she could think

Where she planned for her future

and the days of joy

Until reality set in and she had to wake the boys

and make sure they were dressed

and off to school

But, if there was a little cereal left,

for her, that would be cool

Even though, really, she had no time to eat

Cause, once she was done with them

she had to hit the streets

On that rough, tough ass side of town

where the game was thick and always around

Where the billboards advertise the american dream

as a lotto ticket, a forty, and a bottle of Jim beam

She made her way, Backpack in hand

to a frigid little bench at a shot up bus stand 

Where she sat in the cold and occupied her mind

with the answers to the test she stayed up all night to find

And with the hope one day that her ma wouldn't have to be

working twelve hour days to support their family

She bundled up, with a smile, as the wind whipped and swirled

This beautiful black rose in this cold ass world

T.C

I am Tim Clark  all rights reserved c. 2017