It’s the color of the sun
The one with rays that beat down
And warms your skin on a bright
Summer day.
It’s the daisy garden,
The one just outside your front door;
It’s scent, so fresh and sweet
Fills your nostrils with the smell of summer.
And the sweet, sharp wheat
The ones that make you sneeze
And yet you can’t help
But drag your fingers lightly against their flesh
And take in their musty scent.
Or the shutters of your neighbor’s cottage,
The ones with the soft pastel that stands out among
The white siding
And the pale door
It’s the bow in your daughter’s hair,
The one that she fought
But you insisted,
Because it’s beautiful
The way she looks in that hue.
And it’s the color of your happiness,
The one that shows through the bright smile
That stretches across your face
And bleeds golden joy.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
It’s the color of the sun
The one with rays that beat down
And warms your skin on a bright
Summer day.
It’s the daisy garden,
The one just outside your front door;
It’s scent, so fresh and sweet
Fills your nostrils with the smell of summer.
And the sweet, sharp wheat
The ones that make you sneeze
And yet you can’t help
But drag your fingers lightly against their flesh
And take in their musty scent.
Or the shutters of your neighbor’s cottage,
The ones with the soft pastel that stands out among
The white siding
And the pale door
It’s the bow in your daughter’s hair,
The one that she fought
But you insisted,
Because it’s beautiful
The way she looks in that hue.
And it’s the color of your happiness,
The one that shows through the bright smile
That stretches across your face
And bleeds golden joy.
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