The crisp morning air chills me to the bone and my fingertips have yet to be warm today. There is a blanket wrapped over my lap and the cup of tea that has long since been had fails to warm me up. The windows are shut tight and the heater does not run, all is still and quiet.
Rays of sunlight spill through the windows yet it fails to warm the house. Music drifts up from my computer, my favorite songs that remind me of special people. Images slowly load on photoshop and the chilled air seems to make them load slower than usual. Mermaid socks, a note scribbled on my fingers at one a.m. that no longer make sense, and a longing for another cup of tea.
A slow morning, a rawness in the air, endless consuming thoughts and the flow of a pen across the page. Wanting a response and dreaming about the future. Being productive and sleepy all at the same time. I chase visions of the past while shivering under the weight of the chill. Sunlight gleaming of my rings as my hand moves smoothly across the page.
There is something colder about the way the sunshine looks in October. It is duller than summer sunshine and does not warm as well. The light is pale but not as harsh as in the winter months. It is almost as if the sunlight is saddened by the summer disappearing into fall. The seasons change and the sun does not warm with its rosy light.
And so my fingers are left cold and socks will continue to grace my feet. The seasons continue to shift and I continue to write. The world goes by so quickly on the other side of the windows and so I will sit there thinking of all that has been, wondering about all that will be. The songs shift through the air and I will try to read the note on my finger.
The chilled air presses in and I shall go warm my soul with a cup of early grey.
Until Next Time,