Yellow is Comfort

By Samantha Stephens

the way he smiles when watching the basketball game. A leftover pizza on the brink of molding. A dog begging for food. Yellow is the color of sprinklers in the summer time, watching a baby take their first step. It’s eating an apple and hearing the crisp sound of the skin break. Yellow is the color of cheerios, vanilla pudding. Taking a nap on your bedroom floor. It’s hearing your mom say your name. Yellow is waking up next to him, seeing the dried drool on his cheek. A pair of running shoes. It’s seeing her hand held out before crossing the street. Yellow is the sound of a new song on the radio, sunroof down. Hot tea on a sore throat. Yellow is the color of aloe on burnt skin, going to church and shaking the priest’s hand. It’s the color of your dog taking a piss in the snow. Yellow is writing in a journal and not showing anyone. It’s the sound of the shower at 7 am. The way he rubs his nose against yours. Yellow is the color that covers up blue. Holding her baby for the first time. It’s seeing the stop sign next to your house. Yellow is going to sleep in a dark room. A new gallon of milk. Yellow is opening a black umbrella in the rain. It’s the way books fit together on a shelf.