freedom used to be yellow.
simple like holding my grandmother’s hand
in the church pews on sunday.
simple like the ribbons we tied
around the thick bark of the trees,
waiting for the soldiers to come home.
maybe that is why i still like parades.
the heavy hooves of the horses,
the bright brass of marching bands,
the gleam of old cars,
bubbles floating in the summer air.
i want it to be yellow again.
but knowledge changes all the colors.
i cannot pretend anymore.
it does not mean what it used to.
some people choose the blindness of yellow.
some people see the truth.
*4/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
Bridgette Tales 
I wouldn’t mind a bit more yellow.
I haven’t seen ribbons around trees in several years. That seems odd; perhaps it is something to revive, be they yellow, pink or rainbow.
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It’s one of the images I associate with patriotism as I remember tying them on trees during Desert Storm and after 9/11. I was a child, and I remember loving the country so much it would bring me to tears. That’s gone now, of course. I’m just embarrassed of our country.
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Same. I used to be proud, now I’m often just embarrassed.
I have the Tony Orlando and Dawn song play in my head every time someone mentions yellow ribbons…
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Me too!
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Well said, Bridgette. I would love to see ribbons around the trees again.
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I miss when I used to be proud of our country.
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I’m sorry you feel that way but you can still tie a ribbon round the old oak tree. ☺️🇺🇸
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Such a beautiful poem about childhood memories. We do keep longing for the simple joys of childhood. Discovering the heartbreaking truths that lie behind those cherished tableaux is perhaps one of the saddest parts of growing up.
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That’s so very true. We all have these moments of realization and it can really be devastating.
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Very nice. If it were my poem (and it’s not), I would shoot for a juxtaposition of all colors versus yellow, how one-color is also one-dimensional, how the comfort of yellow gave way to the excitement of multi-color, then return to something like, “but I miss my yellow world” or somesuch. Then again, now it’s my poem, not yours…
I think your approach follows a similar arc. I like it.
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That’s an interesting take. I don’t know why yellow took such center stage here. It started with the ribbons I remember tying on the tree and just kept going. I probably could have stuck with that too, and expanded it. I like your idea.
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I kinda thought your last few lines said a similar thing about how one can be blinded looking for only one color, or something like that.
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You are right. I think it just surprised me how big the imagery got in my head.
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