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 bouquets

but time has long passed since i searched the meadows

i hold them carefully, as if they might shed their petals

i worry they’ve run their course and time will show

will the vines untangle and fall?

i decide you don’t know me at all

i turn away and look back

you’re still there

you are growing

you are golden.