Yellow Rubbish

Rubbish,
old yellow rubbish.
You see, it is there,
It doesn’t move
It stares at you
While you walk, smile or think.

Old yellow rubbish
Covering the air
Whispering dark thoughts
It dyes every day
And comes back to life
While you brush your teeth or watch tv

Covering the air
You spray it on yourself
Forgetting who you really are
Don’t tell me you don’t see it
The yellow day of surprises

more by URSULA RABAR BABIC