early august.

a moment of realizing i'm in a different place now, without the usual loving support of my family and familiar faces and friends around me - written in two ways.

(1)

The day ends, with a soft sky

Blanketing the sun, oh my oh my

The world gently slows down

As the sun kisses the ground

Lighting up the sky with lines of colors

The trees, ancient and old, stretch,

Shakily reaching up, to the sun

Their leaves trembling, as the day is nearly done

The cities slumber, dark and stark silhouettes

Stippled across the fire lit expanse

And I, I watch alone

(2)

The day has come to an end. She can tell by the changes in the sky, the way it undergoes a metamorphosis of pigments and hues. This is when the sun kisses the ground, cosseting the world in color as it does so. The light glimmers and shivers, blurring in the august heat.

She pictures the mourning of the trees and flowers, all wanting a moment longing with the sun's glory. Their leaves are shaking, trembling, reaching out to the sky. A lone leaf struggles, but wavers and flutters slowly to the ground. She stands on her balcony twelve stories high, feeling adrift in the sky, feeling shipwrecked on the rush of light and dark caressing the land. Standing still and silent, she feels as though the sun's sweet melody is playing in her mind. Whispering words of how the world turns and how it has aged, once young and green, now turning black and gray with steel.

She shivers, though it is warm outside. The breeze has picked up and is whistling through the trees. And so she hugs herself, and imagines it is a technicolor embrace from the sky.