A poem about tolerance

A poem about tolerance


He spoke.

It wasn’t the language that I spoke.

He ate food.

It wasn’t the food that I ate.

He got dressed.

It wasn’t the clothes that I wore.

He shook my hand.

It wasn’t the same color as mine.

But when he laughed, it was,

How I laughed.

And when he cried,

It was how I cried.