Saturday, December 31, 2005



She walks my dreams,
the dark-skinned woman.
She walks in grace

and I must follow.
Oh, for some it will be
breasts, for others blondes;

I have loved them all
and regret none. Yet,
she walks in grace.


Fitted dress, stockings:
other girls didn’t
board a school bus

as though headed
to a night club. Sophisticated

might I see you now
among the showy
Sunday morning hats?


Blame it on Michelle,
ma belle, Uhura herself
boldly going where I

could all too readily imagine.
Hey, I was a teenager
with my own mission

and it had better not take
me five years to seek out
some new worlds.


Brown girl with brown baby
and San Juan street ways
that would never be mine,

how came this mariposa
to my garden? I had
no nets to hold you.

Your smile was the sun;
your eyes told the secrets
of Caribbean depths.


Did I but seek
you, the woman
who walks my dreams?

You walk in grace,
my dark-skinned woman,
and the grace of God

walks with you
and His grace follows me.
Yes, all my days.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

I admit, I've always had a bit of a 'thing' for black women. In part, I'm addressing that fact seriously here and in part I'm poking a little fun at myself.

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