I have known optimistic leaves to cling surely to their branches,
Bright and fresh, ambitiously starting their new beginning,
Oblivious to the acute anxiety of the color yellow,
The side effect of choice that spreads unrelentingly,
Infecting everything it comes into contact with,
Causing regret to crystallize in restless minds.
I have known the sleepless despondency of a lone truck,
Making its way over terrain unknown,
While a deserted bus stop lies tauntingly in the rearview mirror,
And an unforgiving sun glares in its direction.
I have known a discarded camera thrown by agitated hands,
A blurred map, an abandoned key, luggage transporting meager belongings,
Ambiguities abound, nerves stretched thin.
And, as time ticked on, I have known even the greenest leaves,
Once hanging on to the sturdy tree at a crossroads,
To fade to a sickly yellow, lose their certainty, and fall gently to the hard ground,
Because blood red is a sure color, and sky blue a relaxed one,
But yellow is uncertain and soaked in fears.