Yellow

On his last day in rehab he played me a song about yellow

It reminded him of me, he said

That was a yellow day

The sun's golden arms stretching along the horizon,

streaming in the open window where I sat dutifully

His smile beaming like fresh daffodils in the promise of spring

He said I was like sunshine but his skin shone like soft honey

and his voice was clear and bright

Months later we were told he left this world

They said he was found as if sleeping on the mustard sands

of the surf town he called home

I imagine him there, his tussled blonde hair blowing gently

in the creamy breeze of a yellow morning

A day his golden shining eyes never saw.