I was already getting
close to home when I saw you...

As I sit here,
listening to the cars...

I know many creatures
who do not sleep well at night...

I don't really like
It when it rains, it feels...

You tend to hide your eyes
from mine, but I always find...

I know,
I don't do this often...

I want to step outside, and simply feel the wind...
you keep standing there, like a fact in a history...

These seas are getting
rough, the waves are...

There were days,
when my soul wasn't...

Feeling this way
ain't foreign to me...

He comes in almost
everyday...

This poem was written for an Art Challenge
on matters of race, written from the perspective...