Yellow Oliva

The hanky was yellow
and the copies were
That tray had hollowed trapizium
And the slam book had a square

I can go on Oli
If you want me to
Build a pathway from my poems
To catch you up over a Sunday

The smiles I wore below
Were the ones you drew for me
You held my hand
And walked me to a clear sky to see

When will they bring us the coffee
I will ask for a hot chocolate to melt
In my heart where you stay
Inside of a poem where I keep