Springs of sorrow clad joy.

I step into the blank darkness of the night.The cold air gently grows onto my skin.
The pulse of the city throbs at earshot,the incessant patter of raindrop intermingling with the drumbeat procession of the festival night.
It makes me curious sometimes,as to what provides the thrill to music..the rapid increase of the beat,or steep drop-the almost unnoticiable moment of silence in between the beats.
I step back into the house and the three of us watch the rain from the screendoor.It begins to feel like we have been watching the rain since forever,hiding in the shadows of the dark house.
The pup crawls into the space between our feet,nestling comfortably in a warm spot to curl up to sleep.
Getting bed is harder tonight,for I slide into the soft blanket on my father's side of the bed.He isn't here now,and a strange emptiness swells in the looming silence of the large house.
The white noise of the ceiling fan going about,the only consolation to our crushed inhibitions.One night to be ourselves,and one night of loneliness.
One feeling of ambivalence.