yellow

When I think of it, I smile inside. A warmth as large as its sound is round. It is the taste of ripe bananas and the feeling of squinting my eyes at the sun. It is fields of sunflowers and a Van Gogh painting. flute music and knowing I’ve passed my exams. My baby niece’s skin smells yellow, like a bowl of yellow plums. Weekends are yellow, but Monday mornings aren’t. Yellow roses grow in my garden, the colour of July. Midsummer’s day is yellow and fairies’ wings have yellow dots. Yellow is a smile.

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