I love to sit on my patio at sundown. It is beautiful there when the sun has just dipped into the western horizon like a babe testing the water and then plunging in, drowning in the red and orange fire. A steaming hot mug of coffee to accompany my nostalgia, I sit there and watch the stars light up the velvet of the sky. Serenity is savoured like an expensive wine, rich and warm.
I grieve sometimes for those that were elusive, never mine. Another day perishes upon itself and the setting sun brings a sigh to my lips. It is so beautiful here, as the moon ascends the sky, bathing my world with her soft glow; the face of a mother, smiling down at her child. My coffee is black and bitter, an ally to the latent ache of belonging. Melancholy consumes me.