The Parade

Damn.
This time alone really does call nostalgia and deep thought from their cool, dark corners. Though sleep would be most welcome, he never visits until after I've put pen to paper for a moment or two, as if to say that I am not allowed to see him before divulging some confession or revelation. Only after the many secrets of the day are laid bare does he see fit to close my eyelids and shut out the last pale light. Now, inspired by the prize of sleep, words form, warm and pressing against my fingertips.
Solitude and silence walk hand in hand, nostalgia and deep thought following close behind. Always, whenever these two emerge for their nightly stroll, their cherubs trail at the tails of their shadows.
Tonight it is a warm melancholy that fills the air, a thick quiet that embraces the heart and spreads its inky solace throughout the body. As the sun of the day's ambitions set behind silhouettes of wish and want, that small parade strolls quietly, contentedly across the horizon.
That solemnly blissful pair, Solitude and Silence, lead a quietly playful Nostalgia and Deep Thought as Sleep trails a little farther behind, bringing the close of yet another day lived.