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
