Impressions

A poem (sort of)

The clouds rolled in over the evening. Bubblegum pinks and gorgeous purples that wrapped and twisted in the sky above. Each formation with its own distinct presence and provocation of feeling. The kind of colors that make you think about your whole life—the good parts at that. They hugged and sent warmth in contrast with the dramatic peaks and awe inspiring view of the huge mountain range they now occupied. One could only sit in admiration, wishing to make the feeling which swarms their chests and tickles their hearts last forever.
But just as swiftly as they came, the colorful clouds went. Suddenly the night sky took hold of the scenery. Closing the curtain on any hopes and dreams which had spiraled into an infinitum of endless options and ideas. Leaving us both in darkness. Ready for bed.
In the morning, searching for that same feeling, we were met with nothing. Blanketing the mountaintops was a soft layer of heavy clouds. These clouds were much different than the ones from the previous evening. Cold and dark.
The arrival of the clouds meant the disappearance of the mountains. The massive rock formations had now been lost into the far reaches of the sky. They had entered into a state of limbo. Were they there? In theory, yes. But now to us they existed in memory alone. Painted into the mind from the stunning impressions that printed them into permanence. Just like the cotton candy clouds of the night before, they had gone.
Instead of the darkness that took hold like the night before, this morning was a dull gray that left you begging for more. But just like the night, the cloud was a thick quilt that blocked out everything. The magic of the mountains was lost once again. Or was it?
 Nothing is lost if you never stop looking for it. Even if that means searching inside yourself. In this case, what we were looking for was still present, ready to be seen at a moment’s notice. Forcing us to rely on memory alone to remind us of the beauty of what’s really there.
Such is life.
As a husband and wife grow older, the beauty they share is built on memories had and the warmth they bring. It’s impossible to measure one’s fleeting beauty on a forever together. It’s the time and warmth and memories had. Like the clouds that come and go, covering the mountains and hiding them from sight, the beauty is always there. No matter how hidden.