The First Bus Ride

 

He looked so small

Beside the road

The Big Yellow bus

Screeched to a stop

For the little crew-cut load

He started down the isle

Of green vinyl seats

Then suddenly stopped

Mouth open wide

At what he happened to see

A bigger young boy

Was seated there

He couldn’t help but stare

For he’d never seen

A man or boy

With coal-black skin and hair

Carl was just the sort

Who accepted who he was

And when the farm boy

Stopped to stare

Simply slid across

And said “just sit right here”.

As the bus roared on

He set his hand down

Right on the seat between them

Smiling he said, don’t be scared

Touch my hand if you want.

Mom, you know…...it didn’t make my fingers black!