I’m a plum-crazy gal,
devour them by the pail.
Colored peddle pushers,
o’er cobalt spider veins,
wrinkles upon my forehead
are covered by long bangs.
All purpled on purpose—
so plum crazy and how!
I’m getting younger each day
if the mirror disagrees … what the hey!
Gray hair—pricky thistles,
rear cheeks dropping missiles
in purpled disarray!

My hat, purpled, is plum;
I can always have some.
Vickie’s ‘boosts’ uncovered
lets my middle droop out.
With my hipsters low down,
violet lips leave no doubt
that purpled is what I’m about!
With my bulges girdled,
I am a shell … turtled.
My face is a canvas
painted of coolest hues—
in shades violet, purpled.
Are you getting my clues?

A plum-crazy lady,
consume dozens daily.
My double-chin tripled
while that pot-belly grew.
I’ve got hair on my chest
(it’s purple—oh, you knew?).
If we’re as young as we feel
then I’m a toddler … get real.
Plums keep my pipes open
and the plumber at bay.
Have a few (if you dare)—
you may become crazy
or purpled everywhere.

Like—a plum-crazy me!