The Greenhouse by Dennis Lange

I am a greenhouse plant that grew
…From seed to youthful tree,
Kept far from both the frost and dew
…Where plants felt agony. 

I was not pampered as a child,
…But sheltered from the hate
That runs throughout a world gone wild
…Like cracks creep ‘cross a plate. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t care;
…I simply was naïve
That prejudice was even there
…O’er color of a sleeve. 

And so it was, that I was blest
…And at the same time, cursed.
Of prejudice – I passed the test.
…At knowledge, I’d not nursed. 

No integration at my school;
…I didn’t even know
That coal was still against the rule
…E’en with the piles of snow. 

And so the strangers came one day
…As if a planet far
Had sent their messengers to say,
…“May we live where you are?” 

It mattered not one whit to me;
…Green was my greenhouse hue,
And under our glass canopy,
…Weren’t all the new ones, too?

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

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