The Raceless Man

My body is just a shell that I wear, how it looks I have scarcely a care, for I have no sight to cause me pain, or make me view you with any disdain. I'm told I have a colour but what does that mean, perhaps it's like the flavours that I taste in ice cream, I like the taste of all of those that I've ever yet tried, vanilla, coffee & chocolate, they slide smoothly inside. I come from some place where we all sound the same, a Yorkshire accent rich with pride, always heard at the game. My friends tell me where the ball flies & excitement grows, they all share that with me and the fun shared really shows. Mohammed, Ralph and Joseph, Kaldeep and Ahsan, they all come from Bradford, in boyhood and man, we'll eat roast beef and Yorkshire puds down at the pub, or maybe samosas and curries in the working mans club. I've heard of this race thing, but for me it is just fine, some win at 100 metres, others take some more time, in my world it is better than for some I've been told, where race can be seen as bad but just why leaves me cold. Would the world be much better if no one could see, and all could be friends with any race just like me, for I enjoy the company of those diverse people who share in this melting pot of cultures where so many show that they care... ©Rhumour September 12th 2012