My memory is fading
I'm pretty sure today wasn't that good of a day, but I can't remember. I was on a run, my thighs pink in the cold. The sun was setting, set even, before I noticed the sky layered like a dish my mother might make. It was light like cool whip at the bottom with a growing topping of the blueberries of night. The trees without leaves jutted into the dessert like diswasher-mangled utensils. Beneath the after dinner sky, I panted slightly, breathing in the crisp "winter" air. A chill from the breeze flitted through the mesh of my stocking cap. My lungs and heart awoke to the change of pace as I surged up the hill on my fortified calves. I climbed through the suburbs as possibility unfolded around me. There was no need for breath-taking views as I'd already taken my own breath. I slowed as I reached the top. I tried to remember my last run. I forgot the trials of my day. The memory may fade, but the soul can shine.