They told me yellow was the color of joy, the hue that lit the corridors of my mind. But as I wander these hallways, I find echoes instead, like ghosts of a summer long forgotten.
In this shade, I remember laughter, ripples of sound painting the air, but now they're just shadows, flickering under the golden light that reveals everything, yet captures nothing.
Sometimes, the sun speaks to me, in whispers, in warmth, as if trying to guide my faltering steps through this maze of dreams. Yet I remain a wanderer, tracing lines in the yellow dust.
Perhaps it's here I will find what's missing, within the sun's gentle embrace, or perhaps I'll just keep walking, beneath this endless canopy of light.