They used to say that a chameleon
placed on a red cloth
would explode
because it would be
unable to become that color.

We often wondered
what would happen if
we put it on a tartan.

You are anything but a chameleon.
You change colors – orange and green and red
in response to some
internal sunrise and sunset,
and not because of me.

We each were once chameleons,
blending in with the
reds and plaids,
until we exploded
in our own technicolor ways.

And that was enough,
and needn’t happen again.

I sit now, boldly, next to you,
on the bright discordant plaid.
I am the color that I am,
an unflinching slate.
You, a brilliant cerulean.
Chameleons no longer.

Weekend Wordsmith

Photo CC by TwelveX