It's riskier than you might think
To mention skin as being "pink"
To a girl that's tried to wash away
The hopeless thought of being gray

Orange is such a pleasant tone
On clothes and walls and college dorms
And lamps,
And fruit,
But coating the pigment of someone's arms?
That's okay,
It's not me they're trying to charm


But it's curious...
Why be afraid?
Of the Sun's
"Terrible",
"Damaging",
"Harmful" rays?
But if skin is preferred oily and white
It's not me who judges for a ghostly sight

But I
As a child of the Sun,
As is everyone,
I could run to and from
The beach
And never bleach
Or dye
A piece of me
Because I know it will reach every crease of me and kiss
My skin,
So warm with bliss
And let the embrace
Brush the plains of my face
And over my skin I let it graze
And leave just a taste of summer's glaze.