The Skinny on Skin

It is skin that we live in--a kind of a shell;
head to toe, as a covering it serves us well.
Evolution’s integument--ever the rage;
(though the talent elastic abates as we age.)

Now the skin is an organ as most people know;
there is dermis, a thick layer living below.
Epidermis the layer of skin that we see;
this exterior membrane protects you and me.

Many pores do abide in the organ of skin;
(when some people take umbrage, skin's said to be thin.)
Some are thin-skinned, for sure, about many such things;
like when hatred pours forth, and the flow of hate stings.)

Skin’s the first-line protection from germs everywhere;
it is area vast as a pathogen snare.
But of course through a pore will a germ enter quick;
skin’s a pretty good sentry, yet still we get sick.

There are colors aplenty of skin to abide;
yellow, black, shades of brown, red and white all with pride.
Such a spectrum of hues o’er the Earth can be seen;
(and when sick to the stomach, one can appear green.)

Oh, but green is not skin in the usual mode;
the skin tans and it burns due to sun overload.
It is melanin pigment protecting, all right;
a protection from sun’s ultraviolet light.

In the skin lives a rascal we’d all love to ditch;
it is journeyman irritant we call an itch.
No respecter of area--all places fair;
we dig nails in the skin as we wage itch warfare.

Poison ivy and acne are basic skin curse;
although they vary greatly, they both are perverse.
How the skin is a battlefield for bane extant!
Pores obstructed on face or a leafy green plant.

Tailor-taut is the skin--it is fine birthday suit;
as a cover for life it remains resolute.
It provides an escape for the liquid called sweat;
body cooling the reason--the function is met.

Ah, the skin of a newborn is pliant and pure;
as we age, due to hormones, more hair will occur.
Yet despite hirsute men, skin remains precious gift;
although there are occasions when it gets a lift.



40 Lines
Anapestic Tetrameter
Writer’s Cramp
9-10-16