Written by Bill Conley
In a sunny little neighborhood on
Maple Tree Lane,
Lived a bunch of bouncy kids who loved to run and play again and again.
There were hopscotch games on the sidewalk, scooters zooming past,
And giggles ringing in the air that always seemed to last.
Every morning, like clockwork, the
kids would gather ‘round,
With backpacks, snacks, and sidewalk chalk to color up the ground.
There was Ella with her curly hair, and Jamal with the best high-five,
Luca told the silliest jokes, and Mei helped bugs survive.
Zara loved to twirl and dance, and Noah built the tallest towers—
Together, they could play pretend for hours and hours and hours.
They didn’t talk about skin or
shade, or the way their hair would curl.
To them, the only thing that mattered was if you could twirl and whirl.
They didn’t say, “You’re different,” or “Why do you look like that?”
They said, “You’re fast at tag!” or “Let’s build a castle that’s flat!”
One afternoon, as clouds floated
slow,
The kids all decided to put on a show.
With costumes from closets and a cardboard stage,
They worked all day like little pros at every age.
Ella played a doctor, Zara played a
knight,
Jamal was a dragon who refused to give a fright.
Mei played the mayor, ruling with glee,
While Luca and Noah sold popcorn for free!
Parents came out with smiles and
cheers,
Clapping and laughing and holding back tears.
Because watching their children, side by side,
Made them realize something deep inside.
The children didn’t notice skin that
was light, brown, or dark.
They noticed who was kind, who shared, who made the best park.
They didn’t ask, “Where are you from?” or say, “You’re not like me.”
They just played pretend, climbed trees, and let each other be free.
After the show, little Ella asked
her mom,
“Why were some grown-ups crying? Was something wrong with my song?”
Her mom hugged her close and smiled really wide,
“No, sweetheart, they were happy and full of pride.”
“You see,” she said, “some grown-ups
forget what kids know—
That it doesn’t matter if your skin is dark or pale like snow.
Sometimes they get caught up in things they were taught,
And forget that love is something we’re born with—not bought.”
Ella blinked. “But we all just play…
I don’t get it at all.
Jamal's my best friend because he helps me up when I fall.”
Her mom kissed her head and whispered, “Exactly, my dear.
The world would be better if every heart stayed as clear.”
The next day at school, the teacher
brought a mirror.
She passed it around so the children could see clearer.
“What do you see?” she asked, holding it high.
Some said “my freckles,” others said “my eye.”
“Do you see your skin?” she gently
asked.
A few nodded slowly, their curiosity unmasked.
“Does it tell you if someone is nice or mean?”
The class all laughed. “No! That’s the silliest thing we’ve ever seen!”
“Do you think you’d know someone’s
heart from their nose?”
“No way!” said Zara. “That’s not how kindness grows.”
“Then remember,” said the teacher, her voice full of grace,
“What matters the most is a loving heart, not a face.”
Back on Maple Tree Lane, the
children kept playing,
Spinning and skipping, giggling and swaying.
Their little world stayed bright and true,
A perfect rainbow made not of colors, but of you being you.
They held hands, shared snacks, and
built forts so grand,
They worked side by side, lending each other a hand.
And though they looked different in many small ways,
They only saw friends in the games that they played.
Because children don’t see
color—they see laughs, and love,
They see friends who twirl, and grass and sky above.
And if the world could see like they do each day,
We might just all learn how to love in that way.
The
Moral to the Poem: "We Just See Friends"
Children don’t judge one another by
skin color—they see laughter, kindness, and fun. Their friendships are built on
trust, not appearance. They remind us that love is natural and prejudice is
learned. When we view others through the eyes of a child, we see only the
heart.
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