the tiniest hint of yellow reminds me of the sun on a summer day. the days where when we were younger would be filled with cookouts. adults sat on the porch, ice cold beers in hand and we sat on the grass, knees scraped up and hair slightly askew from a long day of mishap. i look at you -- yellow really was made for dark skin. those summer days were occupied with you practicing your mezzo soprano and myself sat upon the piano. the sun got lower as i pressed the keys and you belted out. the room became painted with a warm orange and our faces stained pink from the sky; the white clouds lowered. the sky is coming down and we're laid across a blanket that was placed on dewy strands of grass. it's just me, you and some rain. the tiniest hint of blue reminds me of the sky on summer nights. the nights where when we were older featured us talking about awry subjects. my head would fall onto your shoulder because the night was taking over me; my eyelids would droop, but they never closed because you wanted me awake with you. you look at me -- blue really was made for pale skin. those summer nights were never-ending because we couldn't fall asleep. it was three a.m. and your bedroom walls were coated in a deep blue, our faces illuminated by moonlight; the white clouds finally disappeared. 'my flowers remind me of summer days and yours remind me of summer nights, it matches'