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    We shuffled in.
    A manacled percussion
    foreboding
    monotonous
    to those familiar with its strains.
    But not I,
    barely eclipsed by 14 moons,
    doomed to wonder,
    will I see another?
    Trembling,
    all my tactile mysteries revealed,
    by calloused hands,
    uttering in mysterious tongue:
    "Negro boy, strong and limber,
    built for labor in the field "
    Last edited by DWAYNE; 04-11-2016, 12:57 PM.

  • #2
    Yes!

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  • #3
    Unfortunately man still enslaves his brother in many ways. Beautiful capture.

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    • #4
      Short, dramatic, compelling, DWAYNE. You've composed yet another masterpiece in Auction. Thank you! Monica

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