Radiant Purple streams down from on high.
Winters’ five O’Clock sunset slams into me.
I am enveloped by the sky’s mercurial color.
It warms my soul like Mom after a nightmare.
Washing away the stress from work.
Burning away the tang of Onion and failure
from last nights soup disaster.
Soon the sky returns to gray, then black.
Night falls over the parking lot.
Winters chill hits me with the little death of
nostalgia.
I can still smell the damn garlic.