Happy golden thoughts danced around my head.
Things of joy happen everywhere
Children play
Birds chirp
Flowers grow towards the sun
Everything is happy
There cannot be evil,
Not in this land of yellow.
The people live lives in shades of yellow.
No dark color inhabit.
A place of happiness really does exist

i have always kind of disliked the color yellow
i have astigmatism in one eye
and bright things tend to blur together
and give me a headache
no matter the distance
so i didn’t like the color yellow
until i met someone who likes yellow like flowers in sunshine
and has a smile bright enough to give the sun envy
i always maintain
that it takes eight minutes and twenty seconds for sunlight
to warm me and the rest of the planet
but it just takes a look from my brightest friend
to fill everyone around him with warmth
and after a few years of knowing him
(it might be my imagination)
my astigmatism is getting better

fire in her lungs
dust in her mouth
keep going,
keep going
run
to the south

yellow
and tan
footprints
in the sand
her red
converse
leave
trails

an imperfect daughter
looking for water
disappointment
follows
each step.

sand in clothes
in her hair
twixt her toes
she runs
with her red converse.

will she ever come across
an oasis, lost
or will her bones
stay hidden,
in the sand.

The leaves all fluttered in imperfect synchronicity.
Like a dance,
unchoreographed,
yet so beautifully so.
The day was filled with flaws,
but the pure, effervescent blue sky
against the too-large green of sprouting trees
made all the rest melt away.
A hill that was covered by snow last month
now screams with yellow dandelions.

When humanity fails,
man may always return
to where we were never meant to leave:
to the blue, green, and yellows of nature.

Can the *** ask the potter
why was it made a ***,
and not a bowl or pitcher,
or even a sword?
Can Excel appeal to Gates
that it wants to be Edge?
Or Huawei to God of Money
to appease the Yellow Devil?

yesterday I had a dream
of a yellow flower field
where i ran free
from all the pain
with which i went to sleep
my tears had grown the flowers
which i didn’t dare to pick
and there was
a small,
familiar bee
that stung
me.

I sat at a wooden desk next to an old lady who also sat at a wooden desk. I picked a dandelion, the biggest one I had ever seen, before coming to listen to the talk in the chapel of the brick built college building. It sat on my desk and splashed its yellow into my eyes and occasionally I’d twirl its stem and get the green sort of smell on my fingers. The old lady had picked a dandelion, the second biggest one I had ever seen, before coming to listen to the talk in the chapel of the brick built college building. It sat on her desk and dripped its yellow into my eyes and occasionally she’d twirl its stem with her fragile old fingers and scratch notes with her other hand. She smiled at me knowingly as we did the same thing in the same place at the same time. Did you know that we’re all the same?

flowing hair,
crowned with white and
yellow flowers
by boredom now
entangled by the summer breeze
I wear a dress,
and upon my thighs
is a book,
stained with my now drying tears.

my dimples gleam in the bright sun,
my heart as pure and light
as the white dogs tumbling
playfully around me
serenity in my heart,
you on my mind,
this is how it should be.