I Can See the Stars

Cold wind planted kisses on my cheeks.

I stood alone outside, looking at the garden. The pine tree planted by our landscape designer stood straight like a lonely soldier. The garden looked naked without grass.

My arms and thighs ached after a day's work. I was in desperate need of a hot bath, a 30 minutes massage and some manicure as well as pedicure.

As I inhaled the cold breeze, the coldness imbued my lungs. It felt like I was chewing a mint candy. Refreshing.

Then I tilted my head.

I've never saw so many stars in my life.

It ain't a big deal, just stars. I wrote them in most of my essays. I described them as diamonds in the sky. It was suppose to be a simile or some metaphores to make the language beautiful.

The scintillating dust scattered in the dark sky, the stars articulated into a phantasmagorical scene. Ethereal like a dream but vivid to the eyes, quoting from my description of Capri.

I pulled Damien to my side and pointed the sky. He gasped, "Wow... it's pretty. It's like God spilled a jar of water there, and the water sparkles..."

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

"Since when did you become so poetic?"

"I'm a romanticist, sis."

"Uh huh..."

Stars never failed to amaze me. How they manage to shine in the expanse of darkness, and still able to appear so obviously to the naked eye.

The moon was absent from the firmament. But the night was gaudy, thanks to the stars' magnum opus.

In the dark, I can see the stars.