Yellow hands at work each day
He grabs my eyes and pulls them away
He touches everything in sight
And fills my cup up with light
Feeding the plants and calling the birds
Moving around, he uses no words
Shapes of coins he will form now
Now the sky has been torn
Nothing is a great as he,
The color of yellow
Is my kind of fellow
YOU ARE READING
If Life Was Like a Poem
PoesíaA collection of various poetry works written from 2012--present
