Standing outside on the edge of my tiptoes,
I witnessed many strange occurrences:
The moon, round and white as the dusty china dish that holds my rings, cast rays so bright I had a staring contest with my own shadow
It was midnight yet I still heard the rubbery sound of a lone goose echoing throughout the busyness of an abandoned street
And although tears made pools of my eyes, the Christmas lights did not blur in my vision. They stayed true and told me I was out of place and they were not.
‘Twas an unusually warm for a night of December and I couldn’t help but to revel in the hectic night for a little longer than I should have