A Potted History

A young girl,
Trapped in the cages of apartheid,
Stares at me
Through the garden fence,
As I ride by,
High up in my truck.

White face,
White against the clouds.

I look to the floor,
See the earth -
The same colour as her skin,
The beauty within.
A flower ready to blossom,
To grow up out of these walls

To surprise the world.