• Aishwarya Raviganesh

when the yellow visits

i’ve always found it strange,

the way my words are the prettiest,

when i’m the most drained.


when i’m happy the keys just don’t click,

the pages don’t rustle,

and fill up as quick.


i ask myself why.


why is it,

that i can only seem to immortalise the deep, dark blue,

when i love the yellow, too?


i’ve always found it strange,

the way my words are the prettiest,

when i’m the most drained.


i ask myself why,

something i don’t do when i’m happy.


i ask so much of the other colours,

but when the yellow fills,

i think i just let myself be thrilled.


i don’t look for a reason,

maybe that’s why the words don’t rhyme.

because when the sun shines,

i soak it up,

i take my time.


i don’t have an answer,

so the next time the yellow visits,

i won’t just say hello.


i won’t have an answer,

until i ask a question,

so until next time,

i’ll look for a reason.


maybe that reason,

will get me a better rhyme,

so i’ll see you soon,

i thank you for your time.

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