Orlando Belo Poems
Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover
Don’t judge me by the way I look
and by the way I have my hair.
Don’t judge me by my dirty shoes
and by the way my jeans have tears.
Don’t think because I have tattoos
that I’m not nice to know.
Don’t think because I swear
that I have no feelings to show.
My appearance is a defence
to how I feel inside.
My sensitivity is my weakness
so my appearance is just a lie.
My great aunt bequeathed me her wardrobe;
hand carved and made from oak.
It matched the chest of drawers my mother had,
which my ancestors had made bespoke.
We washed, cleaned, and wax polished it,
and placed it where our old one used to be.
It had a distinctive smell of moth balls,
but we were overwhelmed by its history.