A little poetic wax

This afternoon, I wandered the streets feeling as though all the color had been drained out of the world. I gazed out into the woods and over the waters of the lake and felt like I was seeing everything through a dull gray filter. Even the cheery sunlight seemed to bleach everything out, like faded curtains and dried flowers.

This evening, however, everything came back--all the colors, the glow and shine of the world, the little bits of joy and togetherness that I always need. My roommate and I made dinner, then I went out and walked to Country Kitchen with some friends to get a milkshake and just to hang out for a while. When I came back to the apartment after midnight, Erin and Froyd were here with music and pizza and Mike's Hard Lemonade and we're all just now going to bed.

Tonight, the colors seemed brighter again. All the surfaces are shiny and full of life. The world is a safe, warm, happy place again. For me, that only happens at night. The daytime seems fake and superficial. The night is about depth, warmth, life. Night is vivid in black and reflected lights in a million surfaces. It sparkles like a diva in a sequined gown, seductive.

And now to bed.