West College Street

Soft footsteps pad through the kitchen and onto the porch.
Music drifts up from the 2nd floor and a guitar sizzles into the senses, fusing with neurons, becoming a part of the soul who listens.
The breeze comes cleansing and the hum from College Street is just a reach away.
Voices bubble all around, kicked into a lazy frenzy by the summer heat.
A bike crunches gravel outsde the window and a hint of cigarette smoke mingles with the hot air.

I feel like dancing, like becoming a part of the world outside.
I feel like adding my own unique rhythm, making music with those around me.

Leaves flutter softly like butterfly wings and a tangerine sky adds to the sultry atmosphere.
The mountains bring their spicy scent; hinting at places not yet found. Wild.
A child's cry pierces the thick evening and a parent's exhausted sigh soon follows.
Warm water laced with bubble bath is running somewhere and fresh, cool sheets are turned back.
With the steady beat of a drum thumped out from the floor below the day signals its end.
A bird chirps near by and voices fade as West College becomes deserted.
The sky fades from orange to peach to pink and the first star appears in the east.
It shimmers with delight, as it knows of the night's coming adventures.
Bike rides down dark streets, cold air racing against the face and loud music seeping from the garage of a second home.
The night is alive with energy.