It has not the pure innocence
Of the white
Nor the comforting warmth
Of the brown
It has the Almost arrogant
Sheen of the black
The pure black
But Hidden By dust and brambles
So it Looks a humble patchwork
Its locks are matted
Its quarters are muddy
It has been Wandering
In the jungles,
Doing things it Will not Talk of
Running around to Its fill
Gathering knowledge
Gaining speed
And to the jungle it Will retreat
If you pursue it
It is far, far away from me
And yet i know that
From afar,
We recognize Each other
We belong
Only to Each other
And No matter Where it is,
It is mine
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