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He was skipping along, swinging his arms and laughing
At what I don't know.
His grandmother, lagging a few steps behind, was laughing at him I suppose.
And I thought to myself, she loves him, she does,
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
He stopped when he got to the corner and waited for me to turn right.
A smile crossed his lips,
As he waved at me - at me and my shabby old car.
And when I had passed him, he started to prance quite merrily on his way.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
The confidence of youth flowed joyfully through him,
Just looking at him made me smile.
And you know what I did?  I pulled to the curb and parked my silly old car.
I watched for a while as he started to run and then charge on out of sight.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
How old he was then, I'm really not sure, Maybe five, maybe six,
Not yet Seven.
But ageless his quest to embrace this life whatever might come his way.
A sadness crept into my heart just then for I knew life would never be fair to
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
It will be harder for him to be special.  The color of his skin will not help.
I wish I could be there
To tell him be careful, stay safe in this white man's domain.
But maybe the people he'll meet in his life will let him be just who he is
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.

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