My favorite color only happens once a day.
It’s that moment right at sunset as the sky changes from blue to grey.
The light that kissed the treetops has faded from the leaves, pulling away his warm fingertips.
The color can’t decide if it’s blue or grey or simply light, tiptoeing the edge of night and day.
The color feels like solemn emptiness and acceptance that the day is over. Do we rejoice? Or am I full of dread? Of emptiness? Can one feel full on emptiness?
I sit watching the day wind down and listen to the birds through the screen door, all while my favorite color sits in the sky.
While the sunset oranges and blushy pinks cling to the clouds for brief moments and then vanish, my favorite color watches quietly.
And for one moment, once a day, right at sunset as the sky changes from blue to grey, I feel a little less alone.
