The light is dim: the western horizon is obscured.
The willow branches look like green rain: frozen and suspended,
Misty yet immovable. Most other trees are skeletons: disrobed -
Bare against a cold, pale sky. A pool of dark peach holds fuzzy reflections of them.
Another watery surface is illuminated by amber and emerald, but it stretches the light, gaining a night-time city feel.
The longing was there today -
For escapism and a more romantic
Life - the one that makes me question my sanity, for being so strong.
And I’ve seen it - on a building,
In the steeple of the church; the mist of the willows and a similar haze across the surface of the river.
Earlier, blossoms were turned gold by the afternoon sun. And currently, my mind could explore the strip of pink in the sky... - mystical faeries? I’m by a bridge and a troll could be lurking nearby...
The stars are beginning to appear. I came out late, when time has always been short. But weekend resolutions have failed after freedom trips out of town - or simply because of a laziness that could become destructive.
Oops - the streets near home are shadowed by dusk. My bag strikes rhythmically against my leg, one of its contents an unfinished task. But everyone is selfish once in a while.
Look at the darkness - it’s not summer yet. The sun has been teasing you: playing on your craving for solitude and independence.
Fumble for the keys, realise they’re not there. Get let in and know the walk is over.