By Christopher White
The tall green grass grows thick as my nappy roots,
Twist-out fresh with the scent of Cantu
melanin against shades of yellow,
shorts are above our knees,
begging mom for the keys,
just to brush past the leaves as we leave,
but not gone forever.
Just a small escape from what we know as our life,
Let’s play pretend in places we have never before,
instead of dreaming, listening to records on my mother’s floor.
Be with me, and experience love unconditionally.
Let’s sit and let me pick your brain,
Our cellphones can be a drain,
Also act as a drain,
For our best ideas and inspiration,
we can change that.
Let me water your mind so that the
tall green grass can grow as thick as my nappy roots.