In the distance when the ever-stretching Earth impossibly collides with the vivid blues of a late morning.
The gardens I pass, the flowers whispering songs into the wind and carrying it about the flourishing vicinities.
The rare piercing glances between two, whom have never met and never shall.
The faces of young when their shoulders soften and hands tense while innocent grins fill out their flushed cheeks and brighten a room in melodic mere moments.
When the sun begins to emerge from below dulled mountains and rises amidst lifeless skies, before slewing beams of sunshine out beyond the horizons as if echoing rays of light throughout the prior world, resembling that of a grackle.
When a pair embraces and wonder-some eyes clench closed along with their hands and thoughtful eyelashes flutter to a halt and time simply seems to stop for seconds.
In the fogginess of breath, dispersed by those with crossed arms and shivering hands, behind puffy coats and woolen scarves, dusted with shavings of Earth's glorious ice from the forgiving clouds on a frostbitten night.
When light facades around a corner of a dulled tunnel and when refractions of light cascade around faces like flowing locks of golden hair in a spring's breeze.
When pen meets paper and gentle hands mark gentle expressions as ink begins to surge across a page and charge a room with whispers of inspiration.
