I See You As The Yellow
I see you as the yellow
The slow honey
Dripping from the comb
Which lingers over the summer breeze.
I see you as
The chrysanthemum,
Yellow in the autumn,
Or the setting Sun,
Before a new day comes, steadily
Over the horizon:
The line where blue meets grey
And the ocean mist sprays
–blurry–
against your face
My hand rests.
Against your face,
My fingers brush away the ocean salt.
I hear you.
You are the sound of the tall grass,
Moving in the springtime wind,
Yellow brush which sprouts
Memories
–people feel no passage of time.
Smiles
–blush–
frozen in photographs,
Sepia-tone yellow
Lines of a staff of sheet music which rustles
In the open window.
There is a glancing, yellow sunlight off the sprouting leaves.
It dapples the grassy ground,
Moving with a mellow grace
Each passing face
Turns to that comfort space
That place where the light hits the tree
Ils se déplacent au ralenti.
Or do I?
Do you?
I wonder now,
When you laugh
In the car
with the Sun glancing off the
Far-away sign,
Do you feel time
Move slowly–
Like there’s a memory
That is forming
Like the hand which presses softly
Into the clay?
Like the child
–who prays–
Who leaves their print
When they survived the harsh–
Winters
were kinder, then
Penned down the moments
–like these–
Etched into the paper,
Ink blotting at the edge
Il y en a trop,
alors on dort et on attend
… Wait for the tender-hearted
Melodies which weave
through dashed yellows, passing signs
Laughing in the car,
While we sing out “One More Time”
There was a yellow in your glance!
There was a kindness
in your welcome stance.
Your eyes flickered–
A fire that said,
“So, what’s next?”
You looked at me
–smiled–
And a lightness filled my chest.
When we were new
Nous commencions tout juste,
à la fin de l'été
I remembered the trees
–swaying–
I remember the yellow hue
Lingering over the water,
And the leaves which
Afforded us the shade
–Bade the yellow Sun
To stop–for where it was to stay–
“Give us more time,
We have so much more to say!”
But the light would not linger,
The Sun would no longer
singe
The flower
I put behind my ear,
Or our skin,
As we turn our faces to the sky.
So I’ll turn to you, then,
–My eyes are callow–
Face your kindly light,
Because I adore–
I know your color of yellow.