The boy with yellow eyes

He’s golden,

he’s sticky sweet sweet honey,

and the hazelnut crowning my apple pie.

He’s roasted coffee in the early morning,

and the goodnight kiss when the sun goes down.

He’s the scratchy voice whispering in the middle of the night,

and the glare of the sun in the gloomy afternoon.

He’s the bagel spread with cream cheese,

and the fingertips covered with newspaper ink in the Sunday ritual.

He’s golden,

he’s sticky sweet sweet honey.

He’s the boy with yellow eyes.

He’s the boy with yellow, shiny, happy eyes.