I turn the lights off and stare out the window. The world outside hardly seems to exist, with thick fog eating away at everything. The house across the street has no edges, just a porchlight halo'd from the moisture in the air. The rose bushes are dark and looming below the window. A tree on the lawn seems skeletal.
Somehow, despite this, it is beautiful.
And sad.
If I walk out onto the pool deck I can lean on the wood and see the churchyard, just barely, if I stand in the right place. I can see the roof where a good part of my memory was spent dreaming. I wonder if I could get back up there somehow, not that the boxes and scaffolding are gone completely.
But those days are gone comepletely as well. So perhaps it's for the best.
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Lived & Died Where Worlds Collide
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