Nicolas Greenwood

Dear Yellow,

“Dear yellow, you haunt me. You
bleed and shock
allure and soothe
pierce and cut
crack and fade.”

You’re everywhere
I see you through the trees,
In sunlight, beneath my cheek;
You burn my eyes until
All I see is you
until I am yellow.

“Dear yellow, why so pale? Do you
also age and weaken?
Will you also die one day?
These chips of you crumbling
between my fingers—are these your
cremated remains?”

You’re everywhere
I see you passing by,
In the sky, on the walls;
You burn my eyes until
All I see is you
until I am yellow.

“Dear yellow, I apologize. You are sweet,
and sour too; these hands, you see,
are also turning yellow, and these eyes,
when I turn them left and right
are yellow. So, you see
that I too am yellow,
and will age and weaken,
and you will one day
crumble my cremated remains
between your fingers.”

You’re everywhere
I see you in the mirror,
In the fire, on my skin;
You burn my eyes until
All I see is you
until I am yellow.

Dear Yellow,

About This Poem

Yellow is a special color to me. Sometimes it strikes as the most gorgeous, joyful color I’ve seen, while other times I can’t bear to look at it. I haven’t quite make up my mind.

There is a specific yellow I particularly like, and that is this pale, pastille yellow I see very often here in Europe on historic, architectural buildings. For some reason, I see it everywhere I go.

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