In crowded conversations, they chatter,
Duos and trios vocalize, clutter,
Reciting their recorded emotions,
Flowing in raw rhyme grabbing attention.

Some spoke for black history,
T’was the theme,
Then there was the black story,
Blotches of a dark gone by,
An old dream,
Humored so as not to cry.

Inspirations gathering inside me
As I listened sipping on my Mint Tea,
In time the people like the smoke dispersed,
Yet their thoughts lingered in their spoken verse.