The Chameleon

My mother says my empathy is what makes me unique,

The way I adapt my tone of voice, to match those in which I speak

She said I am not just one colour, for I am a reflection of my peers,

That my smiles are that of shared joy, and my sadness is from their tears

I can be as blue as the ocean, sharing your sorrow as though your clone,

I can be the red of fire, taking your anger as my own

I am a chameleon, the master of disguise,

Bound not to one colour, one disposition nor to one specific size

But when in my own company, what form do I take?

What colour do I exude, what impression do I make?

At the end of it all, am I simply a blank canvas, nothing but opaque?

Then my mother reminds me, that while I blend in with the crowd,

That we must remember the subtle shades of sunset that do not shout so loud.

These gentle hues they whisper, they let you know you’re home,

That you’re safe no matter where in the world you are, no matter where you roam

The delicate orange as the sun crests the horizon is entirely my own,

Shared only with the dusk of day, in which I am not alone

So while I dress in all the colours and tones, this does not make me hide,

It is exactly this that makes me stand out, my compassion boundless and wide