There I lay, a seed

Not quite ebony

Not quite ivory

Not quite brown

Not quite cream

Not quite in the shade

Not quite in the sun

Not quite in the soil

Not quite near moisture

Not quite either parent’s

Not quite either garden’s

Not quite like the Ebonies

Not quite like the Ivories

Not quite like any creams or beiges

There it lays, that seed

Who will claim it?