She always wore grey,
to curl into demure nothingness.
Picked on, by ‘bright’ school mates,
she rushed home to wallow in self-pity
where lobsters in a crate
-curtesy uncle from the rig-
stared from just unfolded deaths,
beige plebs, like her reticent reflection.
and ..and a lone giant aquamarine blue,
magnificently, ocean shrouded, pearl mottled,
majestic, even in emptiness of being.
Shaken out of apathy,
enamoured, she ensconced herself in
culinary chronicles of the crustacean,
a chameleon, heat colouring it scarlet,
As if simmering even
in final anger with unprecedented beauty.
Later, empty dried shell on her wall,
It would never fade,
now that she was adorned
in all its bright fiery hues,
another chameleon.