He had always called me his "yellow rose of Texas."
I thought, if a plant ever needed help, that yellow rose was it.
"What could be better than yellow roses in the morning?"
On the pillow of my bed was a yellow rose.
On each table was a large bowl of red and yellow roses.
His daughter held up a bunch of red and yellow roses.
Today, a yellow rose was pinned to the door of the apartment.
I walked out back of the shed and stood beside the yellow rose, trying to find the answer.
There were early yellow roses in a vase on the table.
I ate all the pieces with the big yellow roses.