the way the light in the morning sometimes turns golden and reflects off the sides of houses

the vastness of the universe

leather bindings of old books

thunderstorms after hot summer days

names carved into tables 

and the persistent feeling that this is your chance to create something that will last

the smell of oil paint 

and the crashing of waves

late night conversations 

knowing glances

unspoken conversations

and something close to fate

never wanting to leave anything unsaid

fire pits on cool nights in the summer

setting marshmallows on fire

and singing to tiny dancer in the car

the sound of the orchestra playing down the hall  

the ticking of the clock

the falling leaves

lit candles on a birthday cake

people coming and going 

a continuous reminder that everything is temporary

everything is fleeting

a continuous reminder that you and only you can give all of this meaning

that you and only you can attempt to grasp at these moments

and that you and only you can do something remarkable with them

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