“The summer brings forth all kinds of colours, and some of them are yellows” Gun Roswell

Some Kind of Yellow?

The yellow flower alone stood, solemn, alone and proud, even in its own quietness still quite loud.

After all, it was a pretty little thing, it’s thorns adding a sting, to anyone daring to touch at least too much.

But as long as it was flowering, its petals glowing, with the yellow of the sun, looking like a lot of fun, nobody cared it was prickly.

As the beauty admired from a far, was as good as nothing at all, the summer brining out the best in all created ones.