Sunburn, the poem

Buff, bronze, brown heather

Saddle, sandy, worn leather

The shade varies with the weather

Paleness after winter long,

Expose our skin except the thong

Passing hours, the tan gone wrong

Instead of brown we find it pink

Realizing we failed to think

Happy thoughts begin to sink

As the hours pass the skin turns red

Angry, painful, soon to shed

The plague of an unchecked warhead

Coconut oil or aloe gel

What will tame this living hell

Perhaps a glass of Zinfandel

Any cure, I'd surely try

My throat parched, lips dry

I won't, but feel like I'll die

Drinking water one by one

Cursing out the golden sun

Blaming it for crimping my fun

Time will pass as I heal

The nagging itch, ugly peel

Soaking in the tub of oatmeal

Back to scratch, my skin still white

Finally able to sleep at night

Realizing that I'll be alright

Weeks pass and the sun is high

Perhaps I'll give tanning another try

This time careful, so I don't fry