when one yellow sun comes out
the pink people emerge.Once they were lily white
Some are brown,some tan,some black
with stories and cultures and pasts
But the pink people are delicate
they emerge sniffingly
afraid of solar energy.
They were brought up black as coal
fathers and grandfathers down dark mineshafts
with only little lanterns and yellow canaries to guide them
As these moles emerge,a newer world is born around them-
"azure blues melt cheese sandwiches" in their lunchbox
sitting bright and beaming -blue skies,no fog,nor grey,nor dull honey daylight
They do not yet know what to do-some tie handkerchief knots
stand in shorts in public parks,staring.Some sit in family picnics
Only a few will ever dare into a brighter future
They are just not yet used to it!
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