It's black as charcoal.
Melting like tar.
Spread as Cuttlefish's dye.
And sharp like a carbon-tipped tool.
My black rose comes under the gloomy clouds
With a black umbrella in a black rain.
I never call that you are a black sheep.
My rare blackberry you grow in a prickly bush.
Anyway your heavy black lips murmur a sad song.
And it's bitter than a black chocolate.
To the Brazilian authoress Maria de Jesus (for her novel 'Child of Darkness'.) Also to the young South African poetess Yonela.Mali.
Anna Julia Cooper too.
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-colour-of-my-dream/
