"You look good in blue,"
He said
And she never wore another color again.

Who are we to say
that a love is not to be?
That a love does not belong
and can never be set free?

Who are we to think
that a kind is not our people?
That a kind is far beneath us
and will never be as equal?

Who are we to feel
that a face can look unusual?
That a face must be a canvas
and be painted to be beautiful?

Who are we to judge?
To say love is prohibited?
To think below of others?  
To feel minds can be limited?

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