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A Chicago Pearl

She put her dreams on hold but carries them up proudly
as she serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner, six days a week
to make ends meet; she’s a realist who doesn’t recoil from pain
or regrets; she faces them head on yet she likes the blues because 
they soothe her bruised life that sometimes feels stagnant.
She awaits a new start and the rain in her head is held tight,
she will not be defined, nor resign herself to scattered dreams.
She hangs firm in her mind to these blooming flowers she saw in a terra cotta
pot on her way to work this morning; like them she’s growing stronger 
in her voice and in her step. Tonight they’ll light candles
 in the dark
“You’re a Chicago Pearl, Rondja!” 
he said as she topped his coffee cup;
she briefly held his gaze, and then
let out the broadest of smiles.

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