Our accent is our thumbprint, our essence.
A scent blends as does the soil, the air, the seas.
The world’s oceans and cliffs a natural fence.
The tags on cars like cards for circumspect.
At times adding a “d” no need. Tongue slow of speed.
Our accent is our thumbprint – an essence.
Who would have assumed that pura crossed stance
and pure formed. Tia Carmen says Pura Water. See!
Our words meld and cross border fence.
At times we don’t need vernacular, faces lose our chance.
Even a perfected accent turn wheels to the curb.
Our accent is our thumbprint – faces, less
like hair with curls or shades of skin. Colors, they glance.
Those fearing diversity, look the anomaly.
Our worlds meld if we stand a chance.
The life of a lesser hand dealt but wealth
varies for everyone despite whom is knelt.
Our accents are thumbprints. Our essence.
All worlds change slow despite a border fence.
By Gabriel Rubi