Watching the colors dance across the this blank canvas, I can see the transformation taking place.
As the sun sinks lower and lower,
the clouds morph from cotton ball white into shades of neon pink and orange.
I can see them billow out at the ends, as if trying to clasp onto one another, but just missing each time.
The full moon will be dawning soon. I can already see it in my mind’s eye, plump and bright with a cold aloofness about it. The colors will soon be fading to a dull grey.
The air will have acquired a chill, causing me to slightly shudder as I watch time pass by.
For a time, at least I’ll still have the company of the crickets and the other chirping insects. They’ll be creating their own language, that to me always sounded like a song.
The notes don’t flow like when composed by the human mind. However, to me, the sound they produce is beautiful.
Their song takes me back to many years ago, when things weren’t so complicated and tomorrow always graced those around me.
Now, I find myself tenaciously gripping hard onto each moment, like those wispy clouds, reaching onward and outward to the intangible tip of another. I’m always hoping for another day with them, another moment like this.
For as much as time gives, time takes away. Soon,we all will have only memories and become memories for someone else.
It’s up to us how we shape our lives, and how far we’ll reach to make memorable a small slip of a moment in time.