I wrote this poem today, inspired by Red, the poem by Ted Hughes that I recently posted. I know it's pretty similar in concept, and the first lines are practically identical, but I don't think it's necessarily considered plagiarism. I hope not. Because I sort of like the way it turned out.


Yellow


Yellow was your color.
Yellow
Was the thing you made hold onto you,

Wound around your finger.

You always liked the way honey
Wouldn't show you your reflection,
Were fond of the way caramels
Melted against glass.

You
Were yellow.
Mornings, the way
Roman shades filtered sunlight

And at night, the lantern
Burning scrolls of fog.
They came to you like moths
You, death with a halo

Lifting buttercups to your chin.

I remember
Sand in your shoes
And the letters you cut out of
The yellow wallpaper.

Did you ever tire of admiring
How amber meant forever
To the insect caught inside?

I wanted you to see
The glory of red,
The innocence of white,
The mystery of blue.

But you wrapped yellow around your finger
Again, twice,
Like marriage

And rubbed lemons over your freckles,
Because you were tired
Of connecting the dots.