Early Evening

Early evening, the first of December

everything in the city has a slick shine of wet.

The twinkle of streetlights and Christmas lights

bends and blurs, softening the remnants of the day.

Though the rain still falls

there is no hurry in my step

crossing the street,

coffee cup in hand.

This painting breathes life back into me;

 I sigh and linger

before opening the door and ducking inside.

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