Look Up 

Any chance I get I look for colors. Is it pink this morning, lavender, fifty shades of gray—like my roots? Sometimes the colors are so vibrant it doesn’t seem real. I try, but it’s impossible to capture what I see on my camera phone. On those occasions, I look around me, for someone else who might be as fascinated with the sublimity as I am, but no one else is looking up. 

These people are looking at the phones in their hands, into the empty eyes of the person they are conversing with, or down at the filth: cigarette butts, gum, spit, trash. It’s no wonder people are so unhappy. If they would only look up. Inspiration for music and art, hope and promise, fear and loathing…it’s all up there.  

The bus has arrived, and I line up behind the living dead. The long strap of my bag hooks around the heel of my shoe on that first big step up, and I stumble forward, breaking my fall with my full thermos of hot coffee. On impact the cap breaks off spilling it’s contents. The bus driver isn’t happy. He should look up, and perhaps I should look where I’m going. 
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June 3, 2016, One Word Daily Prompt: Sky~ <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sky/”>Sky</a&gt;