Yellow is Happy;

Yellow is Happy.

Yellow’s relationship with happy is learned early:

our bright sun brings summer,

the flame on candles ignites birthday wishes,

and smiley-faced gold stickers cover tired arms

after a job well done.

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As we grow older,

the yellow which entertained us babes fades,

once bright and highlighted joys now dulled,

our golden memories tarnished into a rusty blue.

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This, however, can be reversed.

Corroding slates can be wiped clean,

a fresh coat of positivity can liven up a room.

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So look how you have neglected life’s gift!

Seize your now rotten lemons and

plant the offered seeds.

Sow your own happy fruits (of labor) and

don’t forget the yellow lemonade

to celebrate.

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I’m told positivity is my best trait,

an isle oasis for heavy minds drowning in blue,

weighed down by whatever has dampened

the yellow,

the sun,

their guide back to the surface.

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I’ve let this invasive blue fill my lungs as well,

I too have wondered if yellow fish would ever come

play in the bleached coral beneath my feet.

I now reach into troubled waters

from my island in the sun, screaming

You too can kick your way back, You too

can again savor sweet tropical papayas,

You too can learn to be happy.

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You too can learn to be happy.

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To be special for your optimism is a terrible thing,

selfishly seeing in technicolor

the people who live in black and white.

But to be notable,

remarked upon for possessing positivity

gleans a strange, warm hope.

Although they can’t see golden yellow,

they can recognize its absence,

hunger for its presence.

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I’m given the honor

of knowing their joy,

The kid at their core

upon their seeing the glow

Of my haven’s fireflies

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For the first time.