Find Your Colours Poem by Amy J Richardson

Chameleons are famous,
For changing to blend in,
Every one to some degree,
Can camouflage their skin.

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:

The youngster's name was Polo,
He was always standing out,
But unfortunately he suffered with,
A smidgen of self-doubt.

See Polo was quite different,
He was the only one worldwide,
Who couldn't change his colouring,
However hard he tried.

He always stayed so brilliant,
The brightest l have seen -
A patch of yellow, a flush of red,
A spot of jungle green.

The problem with this was,
Though he's reluctant to admit,
He wanted to be normal,
But felt he didn't fit.

He was searching for a home,
Where it didn't feel so wrong,
A spot that seemed agreeable,
A place where he'd belong.

So Polo then decided,
After taking time to ponder,
That he'd leave his home forever,
And begin at once to wander.

First he found a giant shrub,
To equal his green patch,
But his other colours shone too much,
Alas, he didn't match.

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.

'I don't think so, ' croaked the frog,
'Though I know I'd like to be,
'But 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.

He reached into the trickle,
And hooked it with his claw,
He'd found a sapphire sparkling blue,
But blue and nothing more.

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,
We're only brown or grey.

And so he travelled far and wide,
Looking high and low,
For that special kind of something,
To suit his sunset glow.

Polo now was tiring out,
After following his feet,
But what he suddenly saw in front,
Made his heart skip a beat.

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.

'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! '

It had a patch of yellow,
That aforesaid sunset glow,
And a streak of jungle green,
That matched him head to toe.

So Polo settled for the night,
In shrubbery nearby,
Feeling oh so happy,
That it could've made him cry.

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.

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'

'At any time of year it seems,
'I'll dazzle like a fire,
'A mango always ripening,
'That others can admire.'

And this thought brought him back to where,
He now knew he fit in,
He was ready for most anything,
For his new life to begin.

So the lesson here to learn is this:
Know when you're feeling blue,
Somewhere lies the perfect life,
For you and only you.

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.