David Rollins – Rosa

Rosa

Sat in a cafe,
Rosa Parks came in and asked
‘mind if I sit down?’

She ordered coffee,
and I noticed it was black,
While my tea was white.

‘We’ve moved on’ I said,
‘there’s a black president now.’
And she looked at me.

‘No,’ she said softly,
‘If you had moved on at all
you wouldn’t say black.’

‘All the things he’s done,
and the first thing you think of
is his skin colour.’

I stared at my tea,
contrite and a little sad.
White tea, black coffee.

David Rollins writes mostly urban haiku story poems.

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