She reaches through the fire and night, through the dark to the light, while we dwell out of sight: in the blur and the haze, the mess and the daze, with the memories that fade of the dreams that we made. Darkness, for her, is a fresh and cool shade.
And the sun is always where she wants it to be.
Where, then, in this picture are we?
This must have been the foggiest day of the entire year. The air was so humid, cold and still that even the birds had fallen silent. He had given up trying to light his cigar, and instead just stood there, pondering his next move. She was pissed, no question about that. But could he risk catching up with her and letting Baker slip away?
Suddenly, he missed the days when he was a man with nothing to lose.
Mom and dad cheered from the edge of the field, and he was trembling with excitement. This was it. The great day. The racket felt heavy in his hands, heavier than usual, and today, for the first time, he felt the uncertainty that came with something new beginning.
She shines, and bounces, and smiles, and dances
And opens a magic box chock-full of chances
But don’t ever dare let your mind go astray
‘Cause she’ll silently turn and tiptoe away.
The clocks have stopped and the sky is smiling on the yellow-brown leaves that won’t quite start falling, and she leans and she glances all over the plain, and she’s happy and glad: one more day without rain. Just the breezes that touch her hair like lovers and the balance that, right here and now, the world offers.
Colours and lights danced on their faces like fire. Their dreams had alighted only to pick up their souls and take them any place they fancied.