Weak sunlight shines as my only spotlight

And the podium stands crisp with cold.

Feelings of honor and pride are overwhelming,

Now shush crowd, do as you’re told.

Mr. President sits just behind me

This is his welcoming in.

I raise my voice and begin to paint,

Pictures on the wind.

Upon the canvas sky I draw,

Images of our segregation

Upon the clouds I illustrate,

Our people’s discrimination.

I speak to my spellbound masses

With rhymes and simple melodies,

Of how our time is changing

With the coming of equalities.

With a sigh my paintbrush falls

And I perceive this new dawn rising

How proud am I to glimpse its come

And ride the wave of changing.

Weak sunlight shines as I step away,

 The podium cold with condensation

Feeling privileged to represent

My people at this Inauguration.