My Favourite Hues of Me

You think I’d say

It’s something like

The colour of my skin.

An earthy, copper, orange, brown-ish, bronze and yellow thing.

It covers me from head to toe

The first thing that you see.

The colour of a blond-wood oak-

A strong made cup of tea.

And then there is

The hair that sits

So proud atop my head.

A dark, black-brown

That marks my crown

And once I’d dyed it red.

It’s chocolate now,

All wild and free

But once it touches sun

It turns into a magic thing

Like gold that has been spun.

But if you asked

What I like most

About the hues of me,

I’d have to say

To move in close

So that you all can see.

It’s not the hair, or copper skin

That I hold dearest most

It’s something that, there, lies upon

The sand out by the coast.

It’s dark and winding,

Tracking paths across my arm and wrist.

An inky trail of something grand

A secret you might miss

A winding vine, two dancing moths

a dragon etched with care

A wonder you might never find

If I don’t tell you where.

Yes, You’d think I’d say

It’s something like

the colour of my skin.

And though I love it quite a lot

It’s what there lies within.

All dark as coal, those lovely lines

Kept safe beneath my sleeve

I’d have to say, without a doubt,

Are my favourite hues of me.