Thursday, April 21, 2016

She said: I suppose I am the color blue. I said: No, you're the color yellow. She said: It's because of my yellow eyeshadow in that picture, isn't it? I said: No. You're the yellow of daffodils who defiantly stare down the sweeping, gray skies that want so much to cling to winter. You're the yellow that chases the smear of clouds so the sun can bring us spring again. And then. And then she was gone. And her daffodils still bloom.

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