Page 16 - Poems by Alyson Malach - Childhood to Adulthood
P. 16
Hope
The sun shines through my window, early in the morn
I turn in my feather so� bed. To greet the world with scorn
The trees sway gently rocking in the breeze.
No one can stay in bed on mornings such as these.
Who wants to wake up to a world of pity or hate?
Where others look on you as nothing and you on them as great
The reason for this scorning, the reason for their frowns
Is their skin being white and yours being brown.
Alyson: Aged 15
15 | P a g e
