The Tapestry of Colors

She gently wrote the first line

My nose flared at her style

She searched my face for a sign

My eyes went up to the ceiling tile

What was written, I didn't like

She lost patience after a while

We didn't think alike

Her writing didn't rhyme

She thought my attitude was childlike

We were wasting time

We stared at each other

Our eyes slowly aligned

Even though we write differently we have unique covers

She has straight hair

Over my forehead, my natural curls hover

Our differences make us aware

That our writing styles are unique 

This poem we now happily share

We clear our minds as we speak

We thought we were nothing alike

Smiles hug the plump from our cheeks

As she wrote in black and I wrote in white

This poem is about: 
Our world

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