Two Men

His skies of blue so beautiful were focusing on me
The skin of milk upon his face has known a life in shade
He looked at me so dark the midday sun has tainted me
For in the muddy fields is where my daily labour’s made
He doesn’t really understand why poverty exists
Believes it could be different but he’s thought and never deed
As if his disapproval or the clenching of his fists
Is all that is required to alleviate my need
His hands do not get dirty if they did he’d realise
To look and see what’s wrong is not the same as making right
A man of action he is not he can but theorise
He ponders while I’m working from the dawn until the night
He dreams of a utopia while everything remains
The whitest man with eyes of blue that sun will never stain


Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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