A Poem from 1:30 A.M.

Conceived by insomnia and insanity comes a new poem from the mind of Joshua Thompson:

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Proposal for the Changing of the Anomaly of Language That is the Word "Orange"

Orange we know,
Is a word with no rhyme.
Search if you will,
But you're wasting your time.

This colour, no doubt,
Is abandoned indeed,
Rhymes for the others
Are found with great speed.

So I would propose
A most foolhardy aim,
To modify "orange"
But not change it's name.

That's just too outrageous!
Surely you jest!
Cry misunderstanders,
While pounding their chests.

But our word "orange"
is a strange one, amen?
With it's letters "G.E."
Preceded by "N."

Similar words,
Like arrange and change,
Have companions plenty,
They're not estranged.

Was it an error,
Or is something amiss?
Why don't we say
Fair orange like this?

So from this day onwards
I am fixing this wrong.
"Or-ange" it is,
Like it should all along.

Now my dear list'ner,
My rant finds it's end.
Like red, blue, and green,
"Or-ange" has some friends.

And my most dear colour,
You might think it's strange,
Can end a rhyme scheme,
Just watch: "Or-ange!"

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