Yellow Girl of 20Twenty

By Sudeshna Rana

On a lonely night,
A host of golden flowers fell into my hands.
I buried my face in,
The yellow rubbed onto my smile.
Lips bloomed and skin hued:
I looked across the camera phone.
Moods saved in filtered clicks!
While I played songs about lemon tarts
And read daffodil poetry,
Yellow taxis prowled my city streets.
I am not a golden girl of the Twenties.
So, don’t tell me about Flappers, Jazz and Fitzgerald;
On a lonely night, like this;
I am the Yellow girl, a century too young.
All I long for are
Van Gogh’s Sunflowers and Klimt’s Kisses!
All I plan for are
Breakfasts of egg yolk, butter and banana pies.

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