Hark! Drip, drop, plip and plop,
Spring rainfall begins, like it or not.
As every good mother* knows,
Raincoats fend off the water's flow.
The hooded plastic-like waterproof must be sought out,
So that even in rain, your body remains in drought.
Oh, the school bells will be ringing
As familial clasped hands are swinging
Off to school, a foreboding grey sky
A brand new anorak, we must buy, buy, buy!
Racks of coats in all tones glean,
Red, blue, orange, pink and green.
Snap. One polyester snared my teeny-tot's eye,
At four years old, it cannot be passed by.
It stood so clean, crisp, fresh, light, bright and new,
The raincoat of lavender, not purple, not blue.
There could be no others, one that one,
The lavender had enticed, allured and won.
No, Not allowed. The wallet closed, the cash was put back,
Cards no longer available, chequebook stayed in the rucksack.
"Oh - no, no, no", Mother says "You don't want that one"
Sharp turn left, quick march off, that was that, lavender gone.
A compromise of yellow with me just at a four year old size,
Yellow's fine I guess but now there's so much confusion inside.
Brat that I was or am, I couldn't have the one I had wanted,
Price the same, fit looked right, so I was bemused and left haunted.
I strode in at school in my second best yellow
and got along with the day like a good (clueless) little fellow
This tale's poignancy only made sense to me later,
If lavender was a person then I was supposed to hate her.
As you'll all have now guessed, I was a bonny young boy,
Lavender: to wear such a colour would bring outrage not joy.
The first memory made, a thing my 'boyness' couldn't have,
The first lesson I learnt, that I should look and act like my dad.
You know, that lavender raincoat has and will forever lay stain,
As society's first mark on my now scarred-up brain.
*I know this should be parent but it is my mother in my memory specifically.