This Poem was Submitted By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2006-02-24 16:35:23 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Times they are a changing

The prism of light beams at me  Around the corner colours Bending my head the other way I see nothing The surgeon’s skill will wield his knife Not as a weapon But as a tool to rid me of the un-clarity I want to see the colours again, red, green, well you know the drill My first glimpse of colour was many years ago Miami Beach We had just moved there from white Canada A black man approached us on the sidewalk And stepped aside, into the street to let us by Why did he do that I asked father Because he’s black he answered And it’s the law here Stupid law I thought God bless Rosa Parks

Copyright © February 2006 arnie s WACHMAN

Additional Notes:
The first two paragraphs have to do with the cataract surgery I will be having soon.


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