Sometimes, the best wisdom comes from women who have walked through the valley and are still learning to keep their eyes on the hills. Welcome to our new series: Valley Hill Apartments!
This week, we will have no featured story or poem as it is Mother’s Day weekend. The writers and ladies of Valley Hills Apartments Series pray that you have a blessed and beautiful Mother’s Day.
We also send our sincere prayers up for those who have lost their children or who have lost their mothers.
Sometimes, the best wisdom comes from women who have walked through the valley and are still learning to keep their eyes on the hills. Welcome to our new series: Valley Hill Apartments!
A Poem for a Flower
Written by Tannika Nikeya
Hello, I am Rose. I moved to Valley Hills Apartments last year. In the middle of the night, I found myself hauling in bags of all I had managed to quietly take with me. And it wasn’t much at all.
Today, I sit here by my kitchen window, slowly sipping my hot chamomile tea. My eyes follow a cardinal, happily chirping along a tree, and then drift to a soft white flower sitting alone amidst the grass. I exhale a long sigh.
I wonder if the flower is lonely, like I had been.
I had once sat alone just as quiet as that little flower—but brokenhearted and lonely. I endured gaslighting and chaos, and felt every petal of my soul being stripped away until I became a shadow of myself.
But as I sit here in my kitchen, something shifts.
I begin to write a letter to a flower…
from the depths of my heart.
In the backyard all alone
Sitting in the mud and dirt
Among rocks and stone
Your leaves withered, withdrawn
Wishing you were placed
On a manicured lawn
The acknowledgments, the daily sustenance
You once received
Have dried up like your leaves
Your wardrobe is dull—renewal must begin within
You may not be the prettiest flower
Feeling like you are about to break, not just bend, in the wind
How long will you wait
For someone to water you to grow
To tell you to soar
To give you value
Just because they walked through nature’s door?
Stand tall—get up on your feet
Encourage yourself
Stretch in hope
You’ve got goals to meet
Air to breathe
Rooms to impact
You don’t have to shrink
Let the sunlight hit your face
And take your joy back
Your worth is not predicated
On what they say, see, or do
No one can validate
Or invalidate you
You’ve known seasons of hiding
Of feeling like you died
Until the true Lover of your soul
Breathed—and brought you back alive
You’ve lost hope
Wanted to run away
But you learned to be still
When noise and storms surrounded you
He quieted you and you began to heal
They said you had no value
Said you wouldn’t last long
Said other flowers were prettier
And although you felt weak, you remained strong
The trees whispered about you;
They gave you a different type of shade,
Shifted their leaves so the heat can make you weary and fade
But you are not doomed
Look up to heaven
Receive your true Lover’s grace to bloom
It’s not over
Life is just starting
He stays close
To the brokenhearted
Each day you rise—just walk
At your pace
Wipe your face
Rest… yield
Dance in the field
And brighten the day
Let the birds see your resilience in every way.
They may stop to admire you
Take in your view
But remember who you are
Deep within you
Some may try to pluck you
Or take you along
But stay rooted
Remain where you belong
Even when others walk away
Stand still; know you’re divine
Humble posture
Fearfully and wonderfully made
You are His design
Continue to grow in His perfect time
Sis, there is courage within you.
See yourself the way God does.
Your worth is not determined by others.
He deemed you worthy before He placed you in your mother’s womb.
So show up today… and begin to bloom.
Contributing Video: https://youtu.be/sJ5Us3_T7yU
Sometimes, the best wisdom comes from women who have walked through the valley and are still learning to keep their eyes on the hills. Welcome to our new series: Valley Hill Apartments!
The Diva pt 1
Written by Saneatra Polk
Jas Monroe closed her eyes and replayed the memory of her husband leaning in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. For a moment, she could smell his cologne, feel the warmth of him.
Then the water turned cold.
Reality snapped back fast. Jas stood alone in a shower that couldn’t even hold its heat, staring up at the same popcorn ceiling she used to pray her way out of. She had seen the world, lived in luxury and somehow landed right back at Valley Hills Apartments.
She cried, “God, why am I back?”
She wrapped her robe tight and stormed into the hallway.
“Excuse me, have you seen the maintenance man?”
The woman posting a flyer turned, studying her. Head tilted as she was trying to recall something. “Diva?”
Jas blinked. No one had called her that in years.
“I’m Tanya,” the woman said, smiling like she’d just solved a puzzle. “Saw you pull up—black car, big coat, all that hair. I said, yeah, she a diva. But you live here?”
Jas recognized the woman from decades ago. Tanya and her family lived in 3B. Same eyes. Same voice. Same building.
“Yeah,” Jas said, quieter this time.
Tanya handed her the flyer. “The landlord was the maintenance man and we haven’t seen or heard from him in months. The building is falling apart and we’re organizing.”
Jas took it, avoiding her gaze, and slipped back inside her apartment.
There were boxes everywhere. She opened one at random. It had her husband’s navy blue khakis and matching navy blue button up shirt in it. A man who built millions and lived simply. A man who would hate what this place had become and what she had done trying to outrun grief.
She didn’t come back to Valley Hills by choice.
But as she looked around, something shifted. The question wasn’t echoing anymore—it was answered.
Jas stood, gripping the flyer.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I understand.”
Tonight, she would tell them everything.
She wasn’t just back.
She was here to rebuild.
Sis, stay tuned for pt 2! If you are enjoying this series so far, please like, share, and subscribe.
Video Snippet: https://youtube.com/shorts/p10TD4nrark?si=lej0vJCTTd0BYXFV
Sometimes, the best wisdom comes from women who have walked through the valley and are still learning to keep their eyes on the hills. Welcome to our new series: Valley Hills Apartments!
Come See About Me
Written by Tannika Nikeya
“I’ve been crying
‘Cause I’m lonely (For you)
Smiles have all turned to tears
But tears won’t wash away the fears
That you’re never ever gonna return
To ease the fire that within me burns…”
“Come see about me”
My name is Amani and I just moved into Valley Hill Apartments. My mother used to play music every Saturday. It motivated her through mopping the floors, washing our laundry, and cooking Sunday dinner. But the song she sang along to the loudest was “Come See About Me” by the Supremes. I often wondered if she reminisced about good times with my dad, but the times I witnessed were not so good.
Today, that song popped up in my mind and I began to sing it just as loud as she once did. I sat in my oversized lounge chair with my cup of tea looking out of the window of my small apartment with unpacked boxes.
I find myself in a new place, in a new city, but I am still lost. I am tired. I am carrying mountains of debt. I owe myself exponentially. I am stressed. I have health issues for which my doctor apathetically prescribed pills I can’t even pronounce. And in fact, I need more medicine, the kind that only one doctor can prescribe. I sip my tea, breathing heavily through my nostrils reflecting on how no one wants to help me or even let me rest on their shoulders. But after all, no one knew I was hurting, mad, disappointed, in need. I always keep my mouth shut and regurgitate, “I’m fine.”
I made myself invisible so others could be seen, time after time. After all, I am to be seen and not heard, but somehow my toxic trait said, “go a little deeper and not be seen at all.” After all, you don’t want to be perceived as prideful. So, I refused help—thinking they would like me more.
I live in purpose and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, but I realized some of my achievements were starting to adorn my worth like a heavy gold chain around my neck. Then, one day, an old lady reminded me that my worth isn’t predicated upon what I do or the titles I bear. She reminded me that I am already valuable–fearfully and wonderfully made. I inhale, then I exhale.
I glance once more around my apartment. I may not have it all figured out. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and tired because I keep trying to lift loads all on my own, without wisdom and in my own strength. And sometimes I think I have to keep moving without resting, feeling and being. I instinctively pick up my cell phone. “Call Lina,” I command. I need to check on my sister.
“Are you okay?” I ask. We end our conversation with a plan to meet up for lunch at a restaurant with our favorite food we enjoyed as little girls. I hang up the phone and tap the reverse button in the camera, flipping it to face me.
And I can hear the woman clearly as she stares back at me through the lens.
“Come see about me,” she sings with all her heart, trying her best to imitate the pitch of the lead singer of the song.
“I hear you just as clear as I hear the rain tapping on my window,” I compassionately inform her.
With hope and with clarity, I respond further: “I see you. I will love you as I love others. I will not neglect you. This next season is yours.”
Sis, stop trying to pour from an empty cup. It’s okay to see about you too. When you do, you show up to your God-given arenas more authentic, more capable, more grateful, and fully present.
Video Snippet: https://youtube.com/shorts/3-L3b65pdIQ?si=xsRQNJqjhaO4057w
Thank you for coming along this new series and stay tuned for next week’s story or poem!
Hey Loves,
Here is a new series for a new season!
In this new series, the ladies of Valley Hills Apartments share pieces of their lives through short stories, prose, and poetry.
Some moments may make you laugh.
Some may make you pause and reflect.
And each piece will leave you with a little encouragement.
Because sometimes the best wisdom comes from women who have walked through the valley and are still learning to keep their eyes on the hills.
Come on in and meet the ladies of Valley Hills Apartments!
Disclaimer: These short stories and poems are works of creative expression, written by writers, Tannika Nikeya, Deandrea Moore, and Saneatra Polk, and are intended to inspire and encourage young ladies and women. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Additionally, this series includes AI-generated visuals used for presentation, created by Tannika Nikeya, Saneatra Polk, and Deandrea Moore.
P’OSIES Cafe Series is a collaborative work by Tannika Nikeya and Saneatra Polk — two writers who believe in the quiet power of words, reflection, and creative connection.
This book is an invitation to pause, breathe, and linger a little longer with language and creativity.
We’re honored to finally share it with you in print!!!!
We’d love to know — are you a poetry lover, a cozy reader, a fiction fan, or drawn to suspense or reflective writing? 📖☕️
Hey Loves 💜
As promised, our sweet surprise is here!!!! ☕📖🎉
P’OSIES Cafe Series is officially available as a book.
What began as an online series has now been thoughtfully gathered into print — grown through collaboration, consistency, and care.
There’s something special about holding words in your hands that once lived on a screen — born from a writer’s heart and imagination.
Available now at Barnes & Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/posies-cafe-series-tannika-nikeya/1149052321?ean=9798279608850
📖☕️ P’OSIES Café Series
Welcome back, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series!!! This is our grand finale pf our beloved series. So, grab some coffee, tea or hot chocolate because we know it is cold outside and come on end for the last story of the P’osies Cafe Series. a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative.
Mr. Daniels and His Cup of Coffee pt 5
(C) 2025
Written by Tannika Nikeya
Accompanying Video:
Part 5 The Fire
“Mom,” she asked, “is he eating now?”
Mr. Daniels lifted his head slowly, his eyes focusing intently on Kimberly.
Kimberly let out a breath of relief. “Well, that’s good, Mom. Thank God. Keep me posted,” she said before placing her phone in her back pocket.
“Mr. Daniels, would you like another cup of coffee?” she asked. “On the house.” She knew his coffee had to be cold by now.
“No, thank you,” he smiled. “How is your dad?” he asked.
“Well,” answered Kimberly, “he wasn’t able to eat much, but now Mom says he’s able to eat a whole bowl of oatmeal. You know the cancer has taken a toll,” Kimberly continued as she sat down at the table with him.
He placed his wrinkled hand gently upon hers. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. This is a tough time for you and your family, but I pray you have peace in the midst of it all. And I am glad your dad is able to eat again. Healing is the children’s bread.”
Kimberly couldn’t understand what he meant when he said that last statement, but she felt relieved. Her face relaxed, her smile reappeared, and her chest was no longer tight.
“Thank you, Mr. Daniels,” she said as he gave a smile and a nod. “Well, let me get back to work.”
“Did you want that fresh cup of coffee?” she asked again.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” he answered.
—
Lesliana returned to the cash register with a smile on her face. Mr. Daniels watched as she bounced happily back. It was then he knew she had earned a good grade on her research paper.
With Lesliana back from her break, Jacob switched over to helping Gregory and the rest of the crew with drinks, pastries, and sandwiches. Order after order, the café moved busily along to the flow of each upbeat song.
As Gregory tackled the old machine for an older lady’s hot mocha latte with a shot of espresso, a flavorful drink for a spunky little old lady, he teased her like always. “Ms. Brenda, what you been getting into lately?”
“This week I went hiking with my daughter-in-law!” she would say. Or she was skiing. Or she went to brunch with her girl friends and had a funky good time. But this time, when Gregory asked, Ms. Brenda’s eyes lit up.
“This week, I’m going to be in a fashion show,” she exclaimed enthusiastically.
“A fashion show?” Gregory asked, perplexed.
“Yep!” Ms. Brenda smiled, striking a playful pose.
Gregory laughed as he handed her the latte. “Well, Ms. Brenda, you better show them what you’re working with!”
“You bet!” replied Ms. Brenda with a laugh.
—
After making Ms. Brenda’s drink, Gregory and Jacob rotated through the next orders as swiftly as possible. Frappuccinos. Chai teas. Iced coffees. Lattes. One by one.
Jacob pulled the lever of the old coffee machine for the next drink to pour out when suddenly—a pop sounded, and smoke rose from the machine’s vents. Sparks also burst from the plug and outlet, startling both Jacob and Gregory. Jacob fanned the sides of the old coffee machine and moved the cup from it, but as he did, he accidentally spilled a bit of coffee on the cord.
The machine grew more agitated as the sparks intensified: then fire broke out. It was like a scene from a movie, an unrealistic one at that, fire was now emitting from both the outlet and the old machine.
Customers gasped and backed away. Kimberly rushed to Jacob and Gregory’s side. As she tried to help them get the growing fire under control, she commanded all the customers to go outside. People hurried out but Mr. Daniels stayed behind. With concern etched on his face, he slowly rose from his seat, moving only as fast as his aging body allowed.
The fire rose and swiftly grabbed on to nearby towels. “Call for help!” Kimberly shouted to Lesliana, who immediately dialed 911 and frantically reported the fire at P’osies Café on 47th & Lake Park. The operator assured her that a fire truck and ambulance were on their way.
As Gregory swatted at the flames, they lashed out and stung his arm. He jolted back with a yelp, and through clenched teeth, told Jacob to get the fire extinguisher. Jacob ran to the back of the store.
More pops and more sparks burst from the old temperamental coffee machine.
——-
Mr. Daniels moved closer, unnoticed by the crew. Kimberly and Gregory jumped back as the fire grew larger. Lesliana pressed herself into the corner by the register, still holding the phone, as frightened as anyone would be.
As the flames grew bolder, Jacob came running back. “I couldn’t find the extinguisher!”
“Oh no!” cried Lesliana. The new fire extinguisher was supposed to be back by the crates, but with the chaos, Jacob’s nerves, and boxes from the new shipment everywhere, he just couldn’t find it.
Mr. Daniels struggled to move faster toward them. Kimberly saw him through the flames.
“No, Mr. Daniels!” she warned. “Stay back!”
The daytime crew tried to fight the fire, but it burned hot. Gregory’s arm throbbed, searing from the inside. The fire spread across the counter, boxing them in. Fear gripped them.
But then Mr. Daniels called out, “Don’t be afraid. I am here.”
They heard him, but couldn’t see him anymore.
“Get out of here, Mr. Daniels,” cried Kimberly.
Just then, the fire shifted, clearing an opening, and the crew was able to escape from behind the counter.
Behind them, the fire roared—thick, angry, and loud.
The daytime crew made it to the door of the small quaint coffee shop. Sirens of a fire truck grew louder and then stopped as the fire truck came to a screeching stop right in front of the P’osies Café.
Firefighters jumped out the truck in their heavy fire gear, ready to conquer the angry fire.
“Is this everyone?” asked one of the firemen to the daytime crew as they rushed out of the coffee shop.
“No. Mr. Daniels. He is in there,” Kimberly remembered.
“Yes, Mr. Daniels!” repeated Lesliana.
“Take them” commanded the ruddy older fireman to one of the much younger firemen. “I’ll check.”
A moment later he and another firemen returned and stood before the crew, who were being examined by EMTs.
“No one was inside,” he reported.
The crew looked at one another. They were shaken and now bewildered.
Then Gregory smiled slowly. “Yoooo…”
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Pssss: we are about to conclude our series soon so we hope you have had a great time at the P’osies Cafe. We look forward to seeing your comments and for you to join us at the next series. Hmm. Where will we be next? Stay tuned!!!! We are so excited to bring some more treats your way.
But today, we have a new treat for you!!!! One full of humor and wisdom that you don’t want to miss!!!! So, come on in and grab your coffee or hot chocolate, and enjoy.
When The Walls Started Talking (c) 2025
Written by Saneatra Polk
She didn’t just leave the apartment. She left the heaviness that lived in her head. Some moves start in the body, but the real shift begins in the mind.
📢My New Kindle Book is LIVE!
Introducing:
Jackey and the Stranger at the Bus Stop
Jackey is met with the growing distance from her high school sweetheart. As he is drawn deeper into street life, she faces the erosion of their hopes and dreams.
One day, while waiting at the bus stop for him, a stranger appears. This encounter brings fear, confusion, and a challenge that forces Jackey to confront what love, loyalty, and her own survival truly mean.
To download a copy of Jackey and the Stranger at the Bus Stop, click on link below:
This urban fiction short story blends Romance, Mystery, and Urban storytelling as Jackey must decide if she can hold onto the familiar or embrace the unknown.
A Personal Note: This was one of the first stories I ever wrote for a college class, and sharing it now is a way of honoring my creative beginnings and embracing my evolution as a storyteller.
Tannika Nikeya 