FROST's peoples

The artist… You won’t know me by hair or locks or bald or fro. You’ll never see tattoos or designs of picts on skin. No woven wear or earthy tones. No poem or prose of exposition. You won’t hear house or hop or jazz or blues. No song or play or clay being thrown. You can’t view my series of photos, Or by glass that was blown. I’m never late, I followed the instructions. No mic my hand, or journal read from. No frames on my walls or easels in a studio. I never learned to dance or sing or speak. Yet I am in your ear, always in sight, under your finger and behind your books… I make piece after peace, and peace after piece each day, in life… But you’ll never know I am…Signed by_