In the Hours of the Morning

April 17, 2008
By Jeremy Franklin, Spartanburg, SC

In the hours of the morning I begin my singing, and all the people azround me listen to my words
The nature which surrounds me, is filled with its calm and soothing demeanor, with my words
I make all dead things come alive
Everything is important, even the tiniest fickle of grass to the grand old oak tree taht reaches up to the sky and as far as the imagination goes
My words see no color
My words see norace
My words see no boy, nogirl, no black,no white
They are not racist like your colorblind ancestors
They speak to everyone, and treat them with respect
Every ear becomes open to recieve my joyful tunes

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