She moved like Jazz.
Newspaper boy wanted her bad.
Upgraded his bike and basket for a caravan so he could show her that he was the man.
She didn’t pay him any mind.
He asked her why.
& she said, “When you depart from this world your caravan will stay behind
so what then is your worth?”
Newspaper boy felt her words
& started reading the papers he once sold.
He found what money couldn’t buy.
The fruition of the mind.
Arsenal of the soul.
The real power in this world.
The more you know the more you’ll soar.
He came back for the jazz lady,
not on wheels, but with new wings.
He asked to dance, and she looked to the piano man and told him to stop his song.
She told newspaper boy that she knew he’d return, for her intuition was strong.
She took his hand and said,
“Take us to the clouds so we can dance to what the birds sing, I want us to take from what we know and build a staircase onto the love our Lord ”
Peace and Blessings,