Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Poem to Mrs. Dubose


An old lady

lived in a big house

with a Negro girl.

Most time in bed

cause she was ill.


The way we greeting,

the way we call

the way we act

all made her mad .

To show respect

We ignore that .

cause this was what father said.


What she said isn’t

pleased to the ear.

We read books

as punishment

for destroying her plant .


In her house

we saw her pain,

Horrible illness

made her worse .

Got her permission

stopped our work .


Weeks later

heard news .

Sorry to knew

she has gone .


Passed in peace:  Mrs. Dubose.

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