Essays, poems and Stories of an African-American

Sunday, 15 December 2013


I came around the time the skies let go of their tear drops,
Why they cry I do not know,
It is about laughter, or mischief,
may be it is a trend.

November in New England is a time of many things;
the trees just give us a farewell display of beauty;
the golden sun's rays streak through tree lines;
the moon beam settles serenely on tree tops.

Then the people are forever being...people;
some share, others are selfish, others just do not know;
so is humanity,
Who am I to judge,I mind my business first.

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