A breeze that plays around in the south side streets full of love, the smell of grandmother soul food tagging along like a small boy tugging at his father shirt,
The wind swings around your body hugging you real tight; what a feeling I tell you, what a feeling, so I just sat there at the bus stop on Cullen & Bellfort happy to see my culture smiling, I could see the cool breeze rushing back but slowing down but not before her hands touched my face to cool me down in the hot summer streets.
"What's going on, how are you?"
The man asked me...
I'm Good sir…
On my bus ride home I could see steam in the streets from all the madness, daggers as words fly from neck to neck,
babies standing still as if their souls were frightened from them,
not one single toy in the grass, kids doing cartwheels over bullets and glass, substituting hopscotch as a means of survival. Now I see why my culture smiles even though the breeze always carry a burden of crack trails right under their noses, they smile because they know each other is all we have.
By: Shiloh McFadden
IG @shilohspoetrycorner
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