By Richard Wallace

I didn’t know I had a colour.

I thought we were all the same.

A swing in the back yard,

new clothes for school.

****

I didn’t know

that colour was special,

like new pajamas

for a sleep over.

*****

I didn’t know that a colour is what I am.

I thought colour was on the outside.

Like paint on a house,

I didn’t know.

*****

I didn’t know that a colour could decide

who I could talk to,

who I could play with,

or walk home from school with.

*****

I didn’t know

that a colour

could hurt

and make me cry.

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