I always look up to you, bro,
with your small, black fro,
your Jamaica shaped birthmark
floating above your eye,
and the gap between your teeth
where all your questions flow.
"Who should I look up to?
Who am I supposed to learn from?
Who watered the seed to make me grow?"
Your questions go unanswered,
but still your mind wanders
into Africa and through the Spice Islands
to search for who your father might be.
Yet even if you met and spoke,
one too many scores have passed to really know him.