Yellow will never be our beginning
There is too much room within yellow for us
Often changing
Like suns or sons
We are not their sun
We are like the moon
Reflecting fragmented light
Hiding our faces until the night
So yellow may not begin us
Might we be final with our Yellow End
YOU ARE READING
Gentle Reminders of You
Poetryoh, reader, my reader, please don't hate what you are about to read they come from a part of me deep inside buried beneath blood and flesh warped in anger and weeping challenged in love changed in trust bound by hope and they are yours
