Free as a bird

Something Yellow


There is something in the bright yellow of a dandelion that makes me smile.

Something sweet in the golden drip of honey,

The way it turns your frown ever so slowly into a smile,

Fine Wind, Clear Morning:
  
Tall red peaks with snow.
A huge valcano waiting.
To explode, erupt.

 

The girl tosses her long brown curls desend down her shoulders, her smile glows like a million fireflys, her perfect skin smooth her portrait oval with red lips like cherries.