Over Parshington, a white stroke flew
Carrying a baby to where Africa grew
He was taken to a vast family of six
A family of black and white all a mix
He grew up in dearth, beginning by birth
But nothing stopped him ever, being a blissful mirth
He tilled the soil and asked for toil
And lived in grains forgetting his pains
He prized his time and saved his dime
And lived a life worth greater than words

Over Parshington, a white stroke flew
Carrying a baby where Africa grew
In looks he was poor, but inside he was pure
He was worthy of every touch
And worthy of the lot much
He lives a life of pleasure
Having love as his biggest treasure

Over Parshington, a white stroke flew
Carrying a baby where Africa grew

OCTOBER 10,2008

sania harris

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blissful-life/