Find Your Colours

Chameleons are famous,

For changing to blend in,

Every one to some degree,

Can recolour their skin.

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On the isle of Madagascar,

Is where we’ll set this tale,

For chameleons are found here,

And we’ll follow this one’s trail—

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The youngster’s name was Polo,

He was always standing out,

But unfortunately he suffered with,

A smidgen of self-doubt.

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See Polo was quite different,

He was the only one worldwide,

Who couldn’t change his colouring,

However hard he tried.

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He always stayed so brilliant,

The brightest I have seen—

A patch of yellow, a flush of red,

A spot of jungle green.

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The problem with this was,

Though reluctant to admit,

He wanted to be normal,

But felt he didn’t fit.

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He was searching for a home,

Where it didn’t feel so wrong,

A spot that seemed agreeable,

A place where he’d belong.

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So Polo then decided,

After taking time to ponder,

That he’d leave his home forever,

And begin at once to wander.

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First he found a giant shrub,

To equal his green patch,

But his other colours shone too much,

Alas, he didn’t match.

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But on a leaf he saw a frog,

Of black and green and red,

So Polo stepped right up to him,

“Can I be your friend?” he said.

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“I don’t think so,” croaked the frog,

“I’d like to, but you see,

“I prefer to hunt all by myself,

“And poison flows in me.”

-

Polo moved on, feeling sad,

Til he came upon a stream,

And in its shallow waters,

He swore he saw a gleam.

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He reached into the trickle,

And hooked it with his claw,

He’d found a sapphire, sparkling blue,

But blue and nothing more.

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Next, Polo saw some berries,

Shiny, pink and small,

But they hardly matched his shading,

So it wasn’t good at all.

-

“How about a parrot?” he thought,

“They sound as bright as day!”

But the parrots on the island,

Were only brown or grey.

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And so he travelled far and wide,

Looking high and low,

For that special kind of something,

To suit his sunset glow.

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Polo now was tiring out,

After following his feet,

But what he suddenly saw in front,

Made his heart skip a beat.

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At the bottom of a tree,

It hadn’t yet begun to spoil,

Was a fruit so bright and tropical,

Just lying in the soil.

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“What is this lovely thing?” He gasped,

And a lemur in the tree,

Said “it’s a mango, dear friend,

“And my word, it looks like thee!”

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It had a patch of yellow,

That aforesaid sunset glow,

And a streak of jungle green,

That matched him head to toe.

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So Polo settled for the night,

In shrubbery nearby,

Feeling oh so happy,

That it could’ve made him cry.

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For every season that was warm,

The mangoes grew and fell,

They’d change from green to yellow-red,

And Polo’s heart would swell.

-

He’d finally found his place,

He’d at last discovered peace,

He felt his woes dissolve away,

And anxiety decrease.

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Now whenever he felt lonely,

Or when calm could not be found,

He’d think “I look just like a mango,

Glowing rosy on the ground.”

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“At any time of year it seems,

“I’ll dazzle like a fire,

“A mango always ripening,

“That others can admire.”

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And this brought him back to where,

He now knew he fit in,

He was ready for most anything,

For his new life to begin.

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So the lesson here to learn is this:

Know when you’re feeling blue,

Somewhere lies the perfect life,

For you and only you.

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We simply wish to find our place,

In this life through which we crawl,

We’re chameleons you see,

And there’s a Polo in us all.