The Hidden Truth
I love walking along the path of the poplar tree
It makes me proud that I am free
Flowers in bloom and the luscious fruit it bares
Gives pleasure to life that should be shared.
My dark- skinned son excels in school
And proves to everyone he is no fool
But alas he looks at a pretty white girl in class
They smile at each other after a quick glance
Students thought he was acting brash
But the teacher muttered he was just plain trash.
The towns people heard and planned their revenge
To make sure it would not happen again.
A message to all Black people emerged
What could it be? It is hard to conceive.
As I stroll along the road of the poplar tree
I spotted my son's twisted body swaying in the breeze
Oh my God, how ghastly to see
The anguish and pain grip me.
No more walks with joy thinking I am free.