Precious child,
You see my color,
But not your alabaster own,
This is the world you were born into,
Me, and the brown plastic babies in the playroom
Are the only introduction you will get to this,
Your little mouth agape
As you ask me in wonder
–A stranger really–
“Why are some people brown?”
And I’ve had a lifetime to prepare,
Tenderly, “Because we all have different skin colors.”
My skin is not an anomaly to you,
But a canvas to be admired,
You will grow and input will develop,
But may you always find beautiful too in
shades that may not be your own