The sun cast it‘s golden rays down upon the clouds of bellowing ample, turning them bright red ; fire red.
“Do you see the colors Sparsha ?”, a question frequently asked by her mother a long time ago.
“They are symbols. Each showing you the good tomorrow could bring”.
It was a Saturday evening, the air was warm and wind was strong. I could feel the warmth of the sunrays on my skin, as I sat on my chair, watching the people. Children playing on the colorful swings, as their parents kept a watchful eye on them. The noise of the barking dogs chasing each other in circles, almost drowned the cries of the baby who fell down whilst running. The children jumping and laughing in the park, leaping off falcon-winged, to soar over the swings, following the sun to set into it’s warm painted seabed.
Her eyes steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckons the stars. Her lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that she is enjoying her view, whatever it maybe.
I felt small as I glanced over my shoulder, and saw my shadow slowly shrinking. Only a few bright streaks remained to signal heaven’s passing. The sun had set.
I wish I could tell my mom now that those colors are hidden within the black despair of night, a symbol of the suffering that tomorrow is going to bring again.
I stayed till the enormous sky darkened to obsidian. There was no sound other than the cricket, no bird song or baying dogs. The air was cool on my face, the trees stood as black statues silhouetted against the sky, slowly the shadows melted away into the blackness of night as I turned around on my wheelchair, wiping my tears, to go back home; alone as everyday.