Painting fireflies in winter

As the clock winds down upon the day

The sun slumbers into hues of gray

I tuck away my heart inside my coat

Start to read the letters that you wrote

The warmth it gives extend elsewhere

Beyond my window unto nowhere

Causing an eruption of stars upon a city

Like fireworks of beauty and complexity

Yet here I am still stuck in yesterday’s time

Empty handed with only a nickel and dime

My mirrors are empty of your reflection

Without you there is no way to perfection

The brush lay silent atop a dull palette

A broken easel lies a victim of a mallet

The phone seems distant and terrifying

Like the white canvass is not complying

I wish it would ring suddenly back to life

To hear your voice will end my strife

The colors will rush back into my hand

If you could only choose to understand

That falling stars are only pretty at night

But in the day they are hidden from sight

 

 

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In my home / Saturday

7:06 pm / 4 October 2014