Colorful Daydream

The fog is so thick it looks as though a white blanket has been draped in front of my window. Cutting me off from the rest of the world. Making my room an island that floats freely through the sky nestled on a cloud of fog.

Listening to music and watching the mist drift by my mind goes blank. I just sit and watch the water droplets gather on the glass. The fog is so white and thick it seems like it tangible, like a blank canvas. If only I could take my paints from my drawer and pain this bright white canvas in the sky. Bright yellow, greens and blues would hang in the air. Small drops of pink would drip into other colors. People could look above to see a smattering of colors intertwined with the white mist. Perhaps a drop or two would find their way down to the ground making bright splashes of color on the wet cement. Swirling purple and indigo traveling across the sky. A master piece only for some to see. A painting for only those who stop to turn their heads towards the sky. Only a work of art for those who look at the droplets on the ground and wonder. Only for those who stop to care. And a painting for me; a painting hanging in the air.

Winter Woes

There are times when you will feel pain.
There are times when you'll feel there is nothing to gain.
And there will be times, my child, when all you feel is the rain.

Im standing under a cloud and I can feel every fattened drop of water explode on my skin.
A drop of liquid engorged with resentment, a drop fed by fear, a drop expanded by anxiety, they continue to grow and continue to fall.

I'm left to find the melancholy beauty that lies inside of the storm, the music that lies inside of thunder, and the hope that is illuminated by the lightening.

Just as all things storms pass. Black clouds blow away to be replaced by sun and bird songs.