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.

her grandmother        stood at the window in the kitchen

             the corners of her mouth turned up into
                  an unconscious slight smile
                  at the sight
                             of a spinning yellow blur  
                              under the big oak
                              in the middle of the pasture
                              surrounded by green grasses
                                                       wonderous hues of wildflowers

she quietly called out to grandad
                             come see this

                the lanky cowboy sauntered in
                             from the breezeway
                             with his umpteenth cup of coffee
                              peered at the blur of yellow
                              
                              opened the side door
                              stepped out on the deck beside the metal glider and
                                   called out in his smooth baritone voice

                                      sheeeeeelllllliiii...
                                      sheeeeeelllllliiii  lllllloooooooooo...
                                      


she might have
                             been 4
                                   or perhaps five

              precious in the way
                  innocent girls that age are


               dressed in smocked yellow lawn
                                                white lace
                                                patent leather

                                                  up to her shins in spring grasses
    
      slowing her spin
      she turned toward her name

       her face radiant she took a wobbly step or two
      then broke into an off kilter run
                                                 arms stretched out before her

      he took a few long strides
bent his tall body low
offering a bent knee
                 wide open arms


she flew into them with all her might
                   knowing she would be caught
                   rough housed with
                   and given a wickereye

            





                   from the window her grandmother took it all in
                                sighed
                                said to herself
                                         hold this dear
                                         hold this snapshot of the soul
                          

                                         for.                           ever.

They tease and compel
Devouring into my ill eyes
Lurking beneath the wilting yellow
Murky black blends in with the night
She taunts in the lightness of the day

This bed dips a bit lower every day
In disturbed curiosity and jealousy
Goading a reaction of plea  
Staring in unadulterated penance  
Wellness improving with each interaction

Greedy to drink in the color
Eyes feast upon them
Dancing slyly in sync
Dripping in need and want
One waits to dance in my head

These chains are finally unlocked
Feet find purchase of the cold flat floor
Only exuberating the ugly drug
To tear the flesh of yellow off her skin
All the while, in a manic spree of glee

Writing highly of you is almost becoming competitive.
Its must feel good reading poem after poem about how perfect you are.
I hope that mine live up to the standards that they have all set.
They all talk of how you radiate joy.
Of how your little actions mean the world.
They aren't wrong.
A smile from you leaves me longing for the sight of you all day.
A giggle, and my heart skips a beat, fluttering to the tune of your joy.
The melodic words that spill from your pen seem to be tattooed all over my body, running along my sides and up and down my arms until the strands of black ink meet on the spot above my heart.
The breathtaking collision of your kiss sends my fears and worries and little insecurities away to a far off place, never to be seen when your smile is in my thoughts .
it’s safe.
it’s bliss
it’s everything.

Thank you

The sun was out.
The grass was green.
there was a sprinkle of rain.
And a sky full of blue.

You wore a calming yellow.
and a smile that showed in your eyes.
and when I wasn't thinking of your freckles,
I was thinking of how nice these little moments are.