The sun’s been raining
relentless rays of yellow
I’ve been wondering if yellow
is the colour of time passing by
Like yellowing pages of books
Yellowing teeth and nails
Greens turning yellow in autumn
To say they’re ready for their fall
I wonder if towns and villages
That live in a yellow world
-you know, the warmer cultures-
Are they somehow more connected
with their past?
Looking out of the window now
is like peeking into the past
Everything is already tinted
in that yellow shade of nostalgia
reserved for memories
Memories
Of long, languishing afternoons of childhood
That pressed heat against the skin
And unfailingly felt like home
If you don’t look in the mirror
This pressing heat
is like time travel
You are back in the frames of
Those times of play, rest, restlessness
Happenings, stories, conversations
Alive just beneath the skin
Oh yes they were all made
Under the strong burning gaze
Of the sun, though now I wonder
Was I already living them
A second time then, as a memory?
Don’t laugh when I say
There are few joys like feeling
Old familiar pains,
their long-found ‘some-what’ cures
and the equanimity with which
they have settled under the skin
They are home
They are yellow
And mellow 🙂
Growing and aging with me
They’re all here, as it rains relentlessly
Right outside my window
a background yellow shade
of so many of my firsts
And lasts
And forevers
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