Purple Predicament

It happens one fine morning when I squint into the light;

The image in the mirror is a terrifying sight.

The carrot-coloured hair is gone that caused me so much grief,

Replaced with purple pansies…I feel gobsmacked disbelief!

The freckles that I hated are exchanged for purple dots.

Without exaggerating, there are lots and lots and lots.

Instead of whites, my eyes have mauves, and bristling on my chin,

A prickly purple beard grows out of lilac-tinted skin.

The nails are painted purple on my fingers and my toes

And, when I poke my tongue out, it is tied with purple bows.

The doctor says, ‘It seems that a disease extremely rare

Has turned your body purple from your toes up to your hair:

Acute impurpleitis. There is nothing I can do.

It’s really not my specialty. The cure is up to you.’

I snip the purple pansies and I shave the purple beard.

I dab the dots with crayon ─ they look only slightly weird.

I loosen all the purple bows and cover up my skin,

Then crumple up my homework and consign it to the bin.

I’ve figured out the reason this predicament arose

From now on I intend to KEEP AWAY FROM PURPLE PROSE.

Sharon Hammad