Colors

I don’t sit out here very often, but I should. It isn’t much ; just a back patio with a view of all of the neighbor’s back porches. Yet, at this time there is something special about it- calming almost. I can hear basketballs bouncing in the distance, kids playing, crickets making noises along with the other creatures, and vehicles starting and stopping. Despite all of the noises there is a calming quiet that settles over everything. The colors in the sky seem to be telling everyone that night is settling in and the moon is coming out. The blues fade to yellows that fade to pinks that turn to purples, that only go to blue again. It’s chilly this time a year, but not cold. It’s that feeling where my heart aches for the time long ago when I wasn’t sitting here taking it all in. I was waiting on night to settle and the fun to begin. My  adventures were an adrenaline rush and love blew through the air to fill my lungs with every breath I took. Now as I sit here , it is hard not to look at all of these house and wonder what happens within those thin walls. What comes after the curtains close? What are they yelling about? Who’s birthday party is going on in the dinning room? They all look so happy. I guess there are some things we just cannot know. However, I do know that these were the houses I ran between during my adventure sin the night. But I do not feel like I am living an adventure anymore. I guess only time will change that. I just hope that somewhere inside of any or all of those walls, there is someone waiting for night to settle. I hope they take risks like I did. I  hope those risks lead to great beginnings, and mostly that they never regret them. I know I do not. Because somewhere under these colors painted above me; someone else is thinking this too (and maybe not) , but I can pretend. Some place somewhere some one’s colors are fading into night , and some where else night is turning day. And some where in between all of that , the person who began and lived my true adventure with me is looking up at this painted sky and thinking of me, at least I hope. Maybe it’s just the colors, maybe it’s the sound of the wind, and maybe it is just the time of the year, but I still hope.

 

 

Author: Cassie Campbell

Honestly? I love poetry, good books, and writing. I may not seem interesting (and maybe to you I'm not) but hey my words are naked and they are how I express.

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