one peculiar day

 
 
 
I don't know what it was  
about that one peculiar  
day
 
nothing had really
changed
 
nothing had really  
happened  
 
but I woke up,
went out,
and I noticed
 
everyone's face was
beautiful;
 
the old
 
the in-between  
 
the young
 
the living  
 
the dying  
 
all the conversations  
I head around me
were beautiful  
 
even the sadness of  
loss was beautiful  
 
watching the way people  
sat in their chairs and
drank their coffee was
beautiful
 
the menus at the Cafe
were beautiful  
 
the way lovers argued
back and forth was
beautiful  
 
the pedestrians pulling
up their collars against
the cold and rain was
beautiful  
 
the way gargoyles sat in
their stone silence high
up on buildings looking
out over the city was
beautiful  
 
"What a miracle." I thought  
to myself  
 
I wished I could keep  
this day everyday
 
but I couldn't  
 
woke up the next  
day
 
and everything was
back to normal  
 
gray,  
narcissistic,  
tasteless  
rubble
 
and I felt quite  
at home  
again