Monday, December 08, 2014

Memories #23

Milk Carton Kids - The Ash and the Clay

There was a time, a soft spot in the morning when the light leaked through the window, casting dust motes across the space of the room. Tiny starships floating through the air, hoping to find a habitable planet, away from the pain they left behind. Perhaps a place next to the sweet smell of the river, green plants swirling under the surface of the water, the rise of white sandy islands catching the propeller. We get out and lie on the particles, scratchy on my back, as the sun scorches our bodies. When it gets too hot, we run and jump in the water, cool against the red of our skin, then warm because the rays stir in the shallows all day long. Camp fires, crispy food, cold drinks and the lazy haze of the day drifting through our brains, causing our eyes to droop low against the coming night, the light drifting away, as if they were chasing the shadows or the shadows were chasing them. The soft warm of a comforter takes me away from all that came with the day, a smile on my face because the hoppy days of summer have infiltrated every part of me.

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