You line up your crayons according to the shades of the sky. Red and orange, of course, but before them, black and gray. You’ve worn those colors down to smudges of wax on the tablecloth. Is that what you see, more darkness than light? You won’t say. There are others, of course, but the paper peeling is less with the bright colors. There is harlequin green and cornflower blue, and those gaudy pinks I used to tease you about, the ones that matched your old summer blouses. You never use the quiet colors, not to blend, not to soften those coarse, bleeding shades. Should I worry? Every morning you line up the same twenty-two crayons, so do you expect to use them all sometime? You haven’t yet, not even frivolously. Am I to blame for replacing them when you’re finished? You won’t say.
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Ordinary Handsome 
Love this!
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Thanks! 🙂
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Wow! Really good – always so poignant and always painting a picture in my mind.
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Thank you, I’m so glad you liked it. 🙂
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There’s something sad and lonely in this, Steven. Beautiful writing.
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Thank you again. My wife’s been digitally painting on her tablet today (the first time in a long time)… though her work is much more colorful. It got me thinking about the nurturing and time we give each other for respective creativity.
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Then not sad and lonely at all. Supporting each other’s creativity is a wonderful gift. 🙂
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I’m not sure what the mood was for this. I think it was sad… I do tend to write dark. But it did come from a kind place. A contradiction, I suppose. 🙂
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A great metaphor for mood, Steven, written in your usual effective writing style. Well done as always. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Thank you, Suzanne. I appreciate it!
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