It is all that she knows as
she sits down at the river
side, cleansing clothes on
smooth river rocks.

I see her each morning as
the for moving of time
lingers at her will.

She first awakens the sun
light before it peers over
the horizon to start her day.

Her infectious smile glistens
on the shimmering of the
ruffled river rippling waves.

Her eyes are as brown and
light as the center of freshly
shelled pecans

Her hair is black as the center
of broken coal and as springy
as ocean sponges.

Her voice is soft and sweet
as she moves with pure grace
in an elegant way.

Her skin’s soft and brown as it
shines like the dark on starry
filled nights.

She is a thing of beauty as no
canvas can ever capture the true
essence of her elegance.

They call her Rugged Rags, as
such her cloths are old and torn,
but they fit her so very well.

Written by Sampson Mathis – Homestead, Florida

Photo by Philip Boakye