Favorite Things

In an e-mail just this morning,

Silly, shallow questions all in a row,

All an attempt at knowing another.

But inquiries seemed so trivial,

The same “yes”, “no”; “black”, “white” answers,

Reveal minor differences from one to another

Things that divulge so very little.

“Your favorite color?”

“Yellow”, you say.

But I want to know more of you,

“Why is it yellow?”

“Is it because of your tow-headed youngest son?”

“The warmth of the sun?”

Maybe it is because of the wheat your daddy grew,

Or perhaps the remembering of the dress you wore,

On your very first date at the age of sixteen.

These are the essential answers,

To your favorite color answer.

These things tell of the depth of you.

The you I want to know more of,

The you that life has created.