He is not black – but David,
Though, by the way,
David is black.
Who keep life at arm’s length,
Say it is his only obvious feature.
Do they look at books and see only paper;
Or cars and see only pressed steel?
I step inside his guard,
And find myself touching another world;
One not unlike my own
Yet wholly other.
I bring my wife and children with me –
They bring their worlds too.
The youngsters soon explore
New continents of kindness
And frolic on the shores of oceans
Brimming with fun.
He ties the small boy’s shoelace
For the third time
Only to be pounced upon and wrestled
By a flurry of gleeful, unspoken gratitude.
Walking in the cool of the day,
We spin a new universe into being.