Y is for Yellow

I can't believe this is all I could come up with for yellow....

“Yellow is the colour

Of your slinky tongue...”

“Tongues aren’t yellow,” Heyou said helpfully.

“Can tongues be slinky?” Dillon asked.

Blue sighed and tried again.

“Yellow is the colour 

Of your tiny teeth.”

“I thought you wanted to write her a poem, not get her to murder you.”

Blue sighed and threw down his rather battered piece of parchment and quill. Both of them immediately fell over the side of the ledge the three battlers were sitting on. It was debatable which would get to the ground a hundred feet below first. Blue morosely watched them fall.

“Why does poetry have to be so hard?” he asked. “All I want to do is write her a loving poem about her favourite colour.”

“Maybe you’re putting too much effort into it,” Dillon said. “Why not just bring her something, like maybe yellow flowers?”

“Nuh uh. I’m not getting her anything she can turn around and hit me with.”

“Poetry’s easy,” Heyou assured him. “All you have to do is make it rhyme.” He stood up on the narrow ledge and cleared his throat.

“When I see you, lover,

I can barely hack

How yellow is the colour

Of the stripe upon my back.

It’s too bad you hate purple, 

For that colour is the best

For I am such a pansy

And an utter wretched mess.”

Blue pushed him off the ledge.

“Well,” Dillon said after a long moment. “At least it rhymed.”

Blue shoved him off too.