My Yellow

Coffee,
Bretzels and
the cathedral.

By the
mamas and papas.

Let us out.

Every lie we tell incurs
a debt to the truth.
Sooner later, that debt
is paid.

Tailored to the window.

March‘s finest gifts.

Pina colada
pineapple taste.

No one keeps
me as healthy.

Where is
the Pizza in Italy?

I do remember,
and then when I try
to remember, I forget.