Paint the Night

Once upon a time we met for a stroll through the night. You in your top hat and glossy cane, and I in my silk gloves and pearls.

We walked through a world of shade, street lights extinguished, and the sky above a dome of darkness.

The more we walked, the sadder I felt.

“There are no stars . . .” I said at last, staring at the sky.

“Then we’ll paint the night,” you said.

With a flourish your cane transformed into a paint brush, and I watched transfixed as you swept your hand above us creating a trail of scintillating stars. Bathed in starlight the streets no longer loomed with loneliness before us but unfurled like a blue ribbon instead.

Before I could walk on, you raised a finger. “Ah, wait. The moon is missing.”

Sweeping off your top hat, you tossed it up into the sky. Its shape spinning until it rested above with its white silk lining revealed.

The buildings around us transformed. Cold dark shadow with plunging alleyways now delightfully mysterious structures outlined in moonlight. Here a silvered garden, there a winding staircase to a balcony door.

“You know what’s still missing?” I asked.

You stood perplexed, paint brush held aloft as you contemplated the heavens.

I laughed, peeling off my gloves and sending them sailing into the alleyway. A moment, a breath, and then they moved graceful and alive in the form of two cats.

They meowed at us in greeting, rubbing against the spiral stairs.

You laughed in turn, delight in your eyes. “All that we need now is a touch of gold.”

“Help me?” I unclasped my necklace of pearl and rose on tiptoe, each of us holding one end.

Together we strung the street with lights, like floating fireflies in the deep blue of the night.

Arm in arm, we examined our creation.

“Shall we continue?” you asked, offering me your paint brush.

“Yes,” I said, “Let’s paint beauty into the night.”

Side by side, we walked on, creating as we went and laughing through the darkness.