Bright Yellow

Who are you, yellow roof?

In amidst this tumble of greys and browns and ochres.

Are you meant to be the sunshine?

A pot of gold?

A wedge of cheese?

Who are you, yellow roof?

You who stands so proudly out from the crowd.

Never dogged by the mud and mildew,

Never lessened by the fading grayscale,

The dirtied, dustied, tarnished will of your peers.

What purpose lets you keep shining against the odds,

And against the truth of all the darkness in this here world?

Who are you, yellow roof?

And who painted you thus?

Who was it that stood amongst this low-down mud,

And dreary endings, and non-startings,

Who looked into a faded sunset, smog-smudged, strangled;

And thought to himself, I’m just not having this,

Tomorrow the sun is going to rise!

Thank you, yellow roof,

For being the sunflower in my life,

For being the sun when the clouds are thick,

For making me think of fried eggs,

And buttercups,

And roadworks,

And baby ducklings,

For brightening my life a little every day.

Picture credit/discredit: author's own work