Foul, the odor greets me
at the very edge of night
before first shards of day
death chose to beat the light
too early duty calls
none would choose to go
Category: poetry reading
THE COLOR OF MY SKIN, Poetry by Sonya Marshall
The color of my skin
runs deep beneath my veins;
The essence of my being is in me,
but we are all just the same.
WILDsound Festival 