I sit here, coloring.
I feel like a preschooler, working intently at drawing something seemingly meaningless. Yet, everything means something to a preschooler. Anything from a drawing of the sun to the day they graduate from college.
My rainbows mean the world. I follow the pattern, think of the colors, and dream of the future. I write a poem on the back, and tape the ends together.
My paper rainbow bracelet.
It's too late. I should be asleep.
But I need to finish. I can't leave this for tomorrow, it has to be done now. When only my eyes can see it.
I'll post this tomorrow. I have to rest; I don't want to be tired for Day of Silence.