She has always had those long luscious lashes
With a blink of an eye, hurricanes does she scrounger
Crimson seeps into her high cheek bones
A twinkle in her eyes that outshine the stars
She never did play with barbies though..
She climbed trees while the other girls picked flowers
A pretty pink dress, she look like an angel in, but never wore one.
Her voice clear and decisive
She made choices by herself
She stood tall and proud
Would always raise her voice in a crowd
She never believed in “girls must be quiet”
Her mother worried about her daughter’s future
Daddy’s little girl acting like a boy, for him, that was torture
They try to force on her a dress
She wore it with her chucks, muddy and a mess
Mother wasn’t happy, and daddy always detests
No frills, no ribbons; jeans she loved best.
He didn’t believe in a broken heart, but he will shed a tear
It takes a real man to cry, boy, ya hear?
That was his dad, whispering in his ear
Tears don’t mean weakness, or even mean fear
He had always thought his dad wanted him to be tough
Man, it’s going to be hard being a boy…life is quite rough
Men can cry he thought?…Then what about the whole male female stuff?
Boy her shoulder’s strong, but yours is just as strong
But don’t think she should rest her head on yours
To underestimate her strength would be wrong
Learn to get that twinkle that resides in her eyes
Appreciate her lashes that reach out up onto the skies
On the outside she looks like you, but she too can be shy
She lives like a boy, that’s not a lie, but it wouldn’t hurt if you were by her side
Her muscles are thick, and proves to have much strength
He lashes too, much longer then yours, such a superior length
Your heart on the other hand isn’t that easy to break
Hers is fragile, but she doesn’t know, but that doesn’t make her toughness fake
Don’t be intimidated that she is a whole, but be glad she is your equal
Look down only if it’s into her eyes, and watch the time stand still
If she falls, she can get up on her own; don’t feel like you need to lend a hand
She may be drenched in tears, but in due time, on her own she can stand
Bruised she climbs to the top, and demands society to give her a place
Treat her as an equal, and set an example for other men to retrace
She will take no more shit from some who are arrogant
Some men are like that, but others don’t know better…you can call them ignorant
Tissue in my pocket, I carry, in case she needs to shed a tear
Shoulders I keep straight for her to lean on and to lend an ear
My mind I keep open, to hear her thoughts and words
Women are our equal, boy, have ya heard?
By: Allen Marshall
Tags: Poetry/Art
