Yellow Bomb Poem by Mark Heathcote

Yellow bomb,
Time is fixed
You'll soon be a grenade again
Yellow bomb,
Being; handpicked in the field
Yellow bomb,
Dear sweet angels shall pick you.
Yellow bomb,
Who thinks you are just beautiful.
Yellow bomb,
You're the image of the sun
Mildly, dew wet ablaze
Yellow bomb,
Yellow bomb,
When's they blow your dandelion clock
Yellow bomb,
We all believe you are just unbelievable
Yellow bomb,
You're the ghost of all our dreams our ancestors.