Abraham Lincoln's Memorial 1969 Written by Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
The alarm clock sang out, my dad jumps up
rushes me into the kitchen, today my love
is indeed, a very special day for you, my eyes
wide shut, as he continued, explaining civil rights
Cramming memories, into my little head I mean
I'd remember sitting, on my Nona's lap as,
Martin Luther King was killed in Birmingham
my entire family, regressed into deep sadness
Aging over night perhaps, so did I ,our last names
were Parks and King, let me tell you, during the
60's in Chicago, if a riot broke out our names,
were instantly called, over tornado speakers
Sound off Mohammed speaks, we were rushed
into dark sedans, being slowly driven down,
Roosevelt road this was 1969 first grade
I was preparing, to visit Lincoln's home,
and tomb mom combed, through my curl's,
my grandmother ,rubbed Vaseline on my face elbows,
and knees ,this big fuss over me, I was actually named
after Martins daughter, well Miss. Yolanda king
you get to sing, on the steps of Lincoln's memorial,
Marian Anderson's hymn, sometimes I feel like a
motherless child, afterwards the Supreme Court Justice,
we were mourning ,with happy tears, these brown face's
doting on me, five generations in my mist
standing in line, to give me a big kiss
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
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