In light of the birth of my second niece and reflecting on how a sense of time will be passed onto her, I write this poem.
history is a crumble away
from making her debut
its time
to let ideas flow like vines
and solve social problems
like crimes
the way they do on tv
or don't in real life
its time
to open a slammed door
and wear a brandless tee
like mines
time
to let your locks do what they do
the way they would
if you just let them pour
free and wild
natural and pure
like the world depicted through
the eyes of a child
it's time for history to reveal itself
i'm not what you thought
i am what i was
untold yet sought
No comments:
Post a Comment