roses are red, like a kiss, a stamp, a heart that has bled

or white, like doves, a dress, a jewel shining in the light

you, my friends, are yellow

not like dirty snow or old stains in carpet;

yellow like the sun that blinds us on our walk,

stars we gaze at from different windows until we look away,

keys that unlock us with every little talk

i picked the freshest flowers for my...

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The world is a fickle friend.

Turning which ever way it will.

I call out to it...  I shriek back...

When it disapproves.

But its disapproval...

Is its only attribute

On which I can depend.

written 2012

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