Color


Small town ideology.
For the most part that was me.
Race was something you ran.
Me and my friends were considered a clan.
The old timers talked of another time.
When the company you kept better be your own kind.
I guess I was just ignorant to the fact.
Some people were white and some were black.
The thought never occurred to me.
Until one day when I was about thirteen.
Sitting there face to face.
I forgot all social grace.
They probably thought I was just mean.
It was the first different person I'd ever seen.
Contrary to what some would have me believe.
Other than color they're no different from me.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem