deepundergroundpoetry.com

Sun Spots

The Sun feels good
upon my back.
It warms the chill away.
 
But should I venture
out at noon...
the Sunshine beating  
down in June
will quickly turn my  
tender hide to
chicharrones on the side.
 
Now, Mother swore that all my spots
were Angel kisses... not the pox...
 
That I was blessed with Camouflage
to hide the zits... conceal the flaws...
and hide a million sins, they say.
They've pride of place both night and day.
 
Mine show up best, though, late at night...
They flu-o-resce beneath black light!
 
The Sun feels good
upon my back...
It warms the chill away...
Author's Note
A friend challenged me that we should each write a poem to share the following Saturday.
Come Saturday next I brought my piece but it was all alone... the friend said she had better things to do.
Phooey!
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