Ginger Snaps
I know it must be Summer
When my frecks come out to play,
When my polka-dotted face
Becomes a sunshine giveaway –
When my pallid-grey complexion
Finds a whole new way to live,
With its tanning only happening
As if beneath a sieve.
They serve as a reminder
For the cream and overalls –
I cannot risk the sun for long,
Before the lobster calls.
No harbinger of cancer, though –
These are no liver spots –
But a crop of chestnut mushrooms,
Or brunette forget-me-nots.
They pop-up on the first hot day of May,
In time for lunch,
And settle-in for Summer –
Though they seem a jolly bunch.
In a burst upon my bridge,
And in a dance across my cheeks,
They’re a throwback to my childhood,
A tattoo for sunny weeks.
Perhaps I’m not so pasty,
But my darkness only bites
In an extroverted flocking
Of acute melanocytes.
My pixels are in contrast,
And my apples are in bloom –
I know it must be Summer
When my solar flares go boom.
Rhyming Couplets 