The color yellow looks different when I look through your eyes,
As if the fields are made of emeralds decorated in butterflies,
And then I see pollen fly and descend to the wind’s singing
And embed themselves into beds’ sheets’ linen.
The coursing of dance mimics a river current
And I involuntarily admire your freckles and the rose of your cheeks like they’re sunbu...
Monday 16th May 2022 3:21 am