Night Moods

The clouds looked like waves from below.
They rippled and looked rather menacing, their color a gradation from black to grey.
the edges are fuzzy and sharp all at once.
Is this life, they ask?
Is this real, is this what we are here for?
They whisper memories of a day long past,
They think, they dream, they wish, they hope.
They are parts of us and we parts of them.

They are the unspoken words tattooed on the inside of our lips.
They are the silent things we appreciate.
They are slow smiles hidden behind a curtain of blue.
They are lists and post it notes and lunch leftovers closed up with a ribbon of saran wrap.
They are small rooms hidden in the back of kitchens, tiny stories that I keep in my back pocket.

For me they happen to cover every metaphor that I need them to, every silent musing.

Like

All of the Feelings

The memories are infinite
They are very diverse, the objects of my memory
They flow from people to place to moment to minute to word to smile to laugh.
Even though the subjects come and go, the feeling, the atmosphere, is the same.

The color of the feeling is half-baked sunlight.  The magical hour just before sunset.  Between afternoon and dusk.
A deep, shimmery golden with a tinge of purple at the edges.
The feeling itself is happy. Deeply at peace and permanently content.
No one to disappoint and no one disappointed.  My responsibilities were easily reachable and the constant prize was a hug.  So many hugs.
How many?
All of them.

How many smiles?
All of them.
How many laughs?
All of them.
How many musics?
All of them.

I miss them all.  They were the best solid ten days of my life I have yet lived.
I will cherish them always and the people are some of my favorite.

There are others, this is certain. But the majority live there, here, in my heart, everywhere.