Skins

You indeed, may take my sperm.

Though some may feel, it to be a germ.

For you are black, and I am white.

Somehow this day, ne’er will be night.

We met at a waterfall, a place so serene.

A place that I, before had never been.

You walked towards me, a Caribbean Queen.

And us both together, some might call obscene.

It matters not, what they may think.

For being fools, their logic stinks.

Come to me, and grace my bed.

Sit and read to me literature, what was it that Shakespeare said.

Choose whichever classic, it matters not.

The one with the lover who is often shot.

Romeo and Juliette lovers begot.

For I desperately have the need.

To listen to a woman, not of my creed.

To hold tenderly, her darkened skin.

And to search my soul, from deep within.

To see what is often, hid from view.

A discarded skin, and the intellect of you.

There are those around, with chaotic minds.

Their eyes being shut, for they care to be blind.

And not see that skin, is just skin.

And its more important, what’s held within.

They have narrow vision, and points of view.

But I’m sure what I say is nothing new.

I think it wont, that would be impossible.

If they came back without attitudes, really not plausible.

So till then my queen, I shall take your hand.

And we will dance in the moonlight, to a Reggie band.

We will dance till the dawn reaches, out to hold.

And snatch us from, the Caribbean night bold.