That Day..

That day covered
with the yellow light.
From the crowd,
the unexpected dismal glimpse
of the one in front.
And the dressed up color.

The day reached noon,
the place went up.
The stage changed,
and that one again,
sitting in a group of three.

The pointed sight
went to the right.
The tables white and
that yellow again.
Which caught my eyes
was the waving black
making the yellow bright.

The sight I saw
and the solid imprint.
Fresh as the nascent leaves,
washed with the every morning dew.

The day it made,
the wandered strings to stay in place.
The connected place and the hope to meet.
The yellow light and the day it made.