Beloved sistas,
I beg you take heed
that the pit of perception is not too deep,
and the walls of emotion, not too steep;
he could've been sharp as a two-edge sword,
a man of swagger,
but haven't two cents to rub together.
Or he could've been one more donor
disappearing into the darkness
of self-gratification, 
given to drunken escapades,
his profound words could be just a charade,
like a parasite, your spirit he invades.
But instead, he's the link in the chain 
the reflection of your soul
that makes you both whole,
united through both highs and lows.
A provider, as sustainer, 
self-sacrificing, his helping hand he doesn't retard,
he doesn't complain as he works hard
on the job, taking out trash, or in the yard,
and he wouldn't dare wish to change a thing.
His wallet may not hold
diamonds or pearls or gold
or a fat bank roll,
but he is a man among many,
even amid his toil's physical pains, 
keeping you secure in his arms time and again
until all doubts are erased.
‘Though he may not been the man of your dreams,
he's everything you could've dreamed of,
so praise heaven above,
and give him your appreciation and love,
because the moment you forget,
another woman may swoop down like a vulture
with the strut of her culture
stealing the years you've built together.