and it was all yellow

Yellow.

It's not just a colour, it's a taste, it's a feeling. It's the first gentle brush of sunlight on dew-ridden grass, twinkling stars scattered across the ground as dew is illuminated in the glow of the morning. It's the melted butter oozing out of a crumpet as it is squeezed between your teeth, engulfing your taste buds with pleasure. It's the warmth which floods your body when a loved one hugs you, that feeling of safety, protection, the knowledge that whilst you're embraced by them nothing can harm you.

There is a house close to where I live, which I noticed with the biggest grin on my face when I was around seven, called 'Custard Cottage'. It's a small house which would be perceived as normal if it wasn't a bright, beautiful yellow colour. The colour of custard, surprisingly enough. Imagine living in a yellow house? Imagine capturing the smiles of every passenger in passing cars because the house is yellow. The colour of smiles. Imagine leaving the house and turning back and the house is cheerily watching you go, slightly sad to see you leave but glad that they have the promise of a return, for who could ever leave a yellow house for good? Would you ever leave 'Custard Cottage' if you lived there?

Stars are yellow. No, they're not just yellow, they're golden. Golden is yellow just with a little sprinkle of magic, and stars are dusted with the colour golden. I was in France quite a few years ago, cuddled in a creaky bed in the attic of a mansion. The smell of moth balls is returning to me now as I reminisce. My mum shook me awake and in a sleepy daze I stumbled out of bed and downstairs. She opened the door and the cool night air rushed around me, awakening me and drawing my attention to the sky.

I was in shock. Never before had I seen stars so close up and golden. Glittering like nothing I had seen before. Swirls of a far away galaxy suddenly an arms reach away. I held my hand out to the sky, attempting to grasp a handful of stars, yet grasping stars is like grasping a ocean made of fire. Scorching hot, it doesn't stay, and you're left with burning disappointment. However, you peer back up at these golden wonders and realise you don't need your own handful, as there they are smiling at you, and you're smiling back, and a memory is all you need.

Today, as you can tell, my prompt was to write something about the colour yellow. I have just rambled yet more nonsense, however I hope you enjoyed it and can now see just how cheery all things yellow are.

Ayesha x