Not the Same

Apples come in different shapes.

They hide behind their colours too.

Each one distinct and yet alike,

create a symphony that brings delight.

 

Mangos I have found

salute this custom so profound.

They all hang high up in a tree,

when eaten, have such individuality.

 

And then of course there is the face.

We all have one –  I think it’s grace!

Yet how it is I fathom not,

With just a smile – derail my thought!

 

And what about that sense of mirth,

It crops up with such violent birth.

It’s spasm’s quivers are quite unique.

Yet all enjoy its invasive tweak.

 

When I surprise a latin scamp,

I am amazed at backwoods imps,

they look at me from neath the table

cause I have skin that’s white not sable!

 

Women when in violence raised,

can see with dread these men who haze.

Yet both alike need someone kind,

to heal the wound they’ve been consigned.

 

Difference is a gift most sage,

It’s grace invites to end the rage.

Cause when I feel discovery’s bliss,

Love  dances out and plants a kiss!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s