Diana Ross and The Supremes

A three-part harmony

Jubilantly through the walls of the apartment

this palatable hymn glides

relinquishing all which ails me

reigniting flames

of thee

I sing

One – two – three – four –

it travels

Five - six – seven - eight the melody

infectious back again

as if summoned

all rise smiles wide time for

the reprise

Sometimes I

wish I could bottle up this

Black Girl happiness

Keep it in

the cupboards

place it in storage

a safe place I’ll remember

on the shelf

Next time y’all get going

I’mma open up

some mason jars

scoop this joy in

save me a batch