DREAMS  ARE  NOT  BLACK  OR  WHITE/

                     By ROZI THEOHARI/

In the old days,/

Black women/

Brought up white children./

Today I,/

A white girl, baby-sit/

A black child,/

My little, curly Cherub./

Her eyes are bright

Like May sunshine.

Her skin is soft as silk.

When she smiles

Violet roses

Flush her cheeks.

She dreams of becoming a pianist,

And I—a  surgeon.

(Dreams are not black or white)

Little brown fingers close

Over my pink ones

     Creating

A butterfly with striped wings.

      By our command

      The butterfly

      Begins to fly

And with it—

                   our dreams…