Nostalgic Yellow
Nostalgic yellow,
striped in black,
moves so quickly,
takes me back.
Nostalgic yellow,
Riles the air,
blowing tempests
through my hair.
At day's beginning
always there,
along with sunshine
brings despair.
Nostalgic yellow,
hated, mocked,
by kids who wake
at six o'clock
Windows open,
doors would lock.
In wisdom's belly
It shall dock.
Abiding by the
Golden rule,
Nostalgic yellow
takes the fool,
and in its jolting
metal flight,
Nostalgic yellow's
off to school.
Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2010
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