How They See Me
When they meet me I want them to see me as I saw the African children; love shining out of their faces, smiles so bright that the whole area surrounding them seems to radiate it. I want them to see me like the trees along our walk to town do. The way they whisper as the rain pounds them almost as if they are making a silent covident to protect my team and I from the drops falling from the once sunny sky. I want to be seen the way the rain drops saw me when they finally did touch my pale skin; giving me refreshment from the heat. I want to be look at the way the doorway of my guest house...