Mr. Yellow

I am the sweet drink you enjoy in the summer,

the sour fruit you hate,

and the pie you never ask for.

I am the river that crosses China,

the bright sand mixed in the soil.

The polo shirt that he was wearing,

now just the highlights in his shoes.

The roses no one thinks of,

the sunflowers everyone does.

I am the old dog whose pelt is faded,

yet still bright.

The big bird who lives on the street,

the sea sponge who lives in the pineapple,

but also the bee who lives in the hive.

The streaks of gold through the pope’s purity.

I am the light that hurts your eyes,

and the light you can’t live without.