Purple sky, orange sea, green clouds, pink trees. We imagine them, we paint them, we dream them.
Beautiful things are not the only ones with beauty, and not all the red roses have romance.
The Christmas tree holds too many memories, and the New year leaves too many promises.
Not all the fires burn my heart, and not all the wines bring love. The scent of perfume is already gone around the sunset anyways.
The full moon shatters away to darkness, the stars shower down, and wishes are made.
All the dreams that never stopped.
All the boys who became men, and the men who stayed boys. All the girls who became mothers, and the mothers who became daughters.
The trees will stay green, and I will grow old. The trees have turned red, but I have become young.
The potentials that were buried, and the youth that was wasted. The sacrifices for the beloved, and the young madness enjoyed.
The roads taken and the roads left untouched.
Air to breeze, breeze to waves, waves to breath, breath to air.
So let me just love the morning sunrise, the afternoon coffee, the evening melodies. Blue sky, blue sea, white clouds, and green trees. I imagine them, I see them, I love them.