My Yellow

Photo by Pixabay on

Kayla Senne (2022)

Does the light of 12 hours dare compete with her soul?  

I fret not the potential of dimming  

Her ignition fueled by the world’s coal  

Inexplicable zeal for life brimming  

Warm, frigid is the absence of her embraces  

The male gaze infatuated with her gleam  

Nurturers of time in attempt to paint their faces  

Yet not she knows, does not know it may seem  

Now I mustn’t compare  

I know not such a thing  

Could hold a light to her air  

Oh, my yellow! How your hue can cling  

Let the somber cross her path in hopes of a ray  

Ever so convivial, as honeyed as her sachet  



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