If the man that you are is defined

By who you are in the light,

Then I don't you, as I've only ever

Seen you in the night.

But to me you're prismatic yellow,

A color I used to abhor. 

Now, it simply haunts me

Regardless of hour. 

I see it everywhere I go,

Thus reminding me of you.

You're winter, in appearance,

But not demeanor. That's more like 

A hearth amidst a New England blizzard.

I know you not, but the fact I've associated you

With a color is noteworthy.

This is me bidding you adieu,

Lest you find me in daylight.