The clouds huddle above us in intimate clusters the way lovers grow into one another in early October. Readying for the winter. Latching onto the last bit of warmth they can find: their summer love.
November will descend upon our eyelids with a heavy blue breeze. December will take our breath away. January will tickle us with snow and early morning kisses. And February will remind us of the strength in aloneness. Being alone is not being lonely.
As my mind slows to a halt on the seasons and their spirits, he walks over to my spot by the window and hands me my glass of warm green tea. Shards of sunlight pierce through the white fluff in sporadic spaces. I wonder if heaven knows I’m dreaming. I wonder if there’s still space for everyone I love. I know there must be, because the sun is swallowed whole by the ocean every night. And each time it takes with it a new orchestra of souls. Souls that will scatter themselves peacefully in the sky. Those of us still alive will busy ourselves with science and call these scattered souls stars. And as for soul mates? They are not exclusive to the living; the dead find their soul mates, too. We call them constellations.
To be pensive is a wonderful thing.
My love is calm and balanced on this cloudy day. I give and I give but I do not forget to take. All is safe when love is free. And all is comforting when softness prevails. May we always remember this. Soft blue is a state of mind.