a december lighthouse shining into june
These are the days we so often remember for the bleak skies that melt into empty trees. Days painted into memory like watercolor on a canvas of the weakest lace. Tea stain imprints, with faded yellow and that smell none can describe. The sun is faded, perhaps nonexistent, save for the memories of when it smiled months ago. No clouds, no rain. The sky is trapped in time and the flow of the seasons seem forever on hiatus.
She walks across the campus in an elegant stride, indescribable to even the greatest poets. The twinkle in her eyes, lit by something even greater than the forgotten sun, shines ever so brightly like a lighthouse in the midst of dense fog. And we pass by each other on those days when even an everlasting pause in time would never be enough to satisfy. Those quick seconds, often without the need for words of any kind, brighten the darkest of days or feelings or hearts. Kindred souls dance and leaves turn so green and flowers blossom so passionately that even the white blanket spread across the sky is forced to open up and let the sun shine. Even if it’s for a brief second, so small and unnoticeable to any but us, it happens, and it’s because of us. We know this and we smile.
