Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2016
you said
if they didn’t like the color of your skin
the color that white people
burn for on a beach
the color braided
by the moon and the night
the color where
gardens make their home
the color eyes see
when shut for a dream
you said that
and yet they do not know what they do
even as they try
to wear the color the same as you
Mark Lecuona
Written by
Mark Lecuona
236
   Weeping willow
Please log in to view and add comments on poems