Orange beams create ovals of light on dark pavement, temporary holding zones for the memories of summer.
Basking in glow of turn signals and construction cones, buses come and go. Some for itinerant workers and prominent businessmen, others for people like me.
Boarding bus, black leather jumps, inviting cushions for respite before the daily grind starts again.
Echos of blue and white reverberate through my head. Fond memories of days long lost, memories reaching and stretching, folding into postcards, journeying into positive piles. Happy stacks vastly outnumbered by skyscrapers of gloom.
What happy days seemed so long ago, even though they are mere hours gone.
I wander through the day, Wednesday. Eyes darting without suspense, searching for good times. Smiles lift the day, but the sun hasn't revealed itself yet. Searching for spirits of days lost, I loose hope in long period french.
Silence blasts through the room, immersed with âcçéñts of past tests and future students.
Such mind molding clay for modeling, some already settled.
Grabbing onto memories from bright times, I struggle for breaths, as I write,
Sepia spills over summer's spoils
Amber encases the beach, like a fly trapped in well, Amber.
How I wish for wonderful woe-free wanderings once again.
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