Well, I had never seen a sunrise here. I just kind of wanted to. I wanted to see how the first rays of light peeked over the clouds and chased the stars away. How they fell on the naked branches of the trees below me, and hid in the nicks and grooves of the bark. And I wanted the first breath of the day to be all mine. I held my pillow close to me like she was a good friend. And together we watched the effects of the daily rotation of our green and blue little planet. I wanted that start of the day perspective you get when you get up to go fishing, or on a long road trip. Ever so slowly the room filled up with light as my pillow and I sat by the window. The Lord had seen it fit to give us another chance, another day. Another day to live and grow and learn. Or another day to hate and bruise and take. I'm not sure which. But my pillow and I just kind of let it draw over us and lived in a haze for a short while, where the only life were the scattered cars walking around on their black sidewalks, trying to keep in the lines and out of each others ways. And then this birds started to swarm, not just congregate, but swarm, possibly chatting about the nights victories and losses against sleep and their mates. Not against chicks though, not in the fall-winter Windsor climate. It's so strange that the graveyard is right there, shouting death at my pillow and I. I guess we went deaf for a while there, no sounds really penetrated except for the pirated mp3 files swooning out of my computer. That, and of course, the sounds of knuckle cracking, sighing and smiling. Now the sky is grey and uninviting. It looks like at any moment it might thunder at me to stop staring at it, and follow that up with a bolt or two of jagged lightning. But the skies were blue for a while. And they were blues I had never seen before. Blues crayola could never ever pinpoint in box of crayons. Not even in the 24 box. The dripping watercolour wrists and bloated African bellies are far away right now, but the grey sky reminds me that they will be back, bigger and badder than ever. But until then? Until then I've got my Radiohead and my window and my pillow. Until then I have the blue skies inside me, tinkering around where they will. And with all those things mingles something else. Something a little less important perhaps, but it's there and wants out, so why should I contain it? I'll let it out and it will probably tink out and be done with til needed again, like the orange-y streetlights down below. What is it? It's just a simple question...
Get your own Free Home Page