The mellow yellow fellow hangs around all by his lonesome. He can’t seem to find his other half to call his own.
His teary blue eyes seek to find her but he only finds twisted reflections of ancient memories hiding between the lines of erased sketchbooked dreams.
His canvas is warping. His painted smile is waning. His highlights and hues are dimming. Too many attempts at fruitless quests have got the best of him. The dream is fading like the lines that made him.
The mellow yellow fellow spies an empty canvas set before him. He imagines he sees traces of her in the field of nothingness. Perhaps from this blankness she will be born. Too long he has waited for the creator to put paint to palette. Too long he has hung around awaiting the artist to deliver love’s satisfaction.
But the mellow yellow fellow patiently awaits her creation and prays when she comes it’s not just another drawn out infatuation.