I was waiting.
Waiting for the Angel voice.
Waiting for the timeless alibi.
Waiting for the reverberation from a giant's silent world.
We had come to the water's edge, the giant and I. His forward facing eyes seemingly cast upon something beyond us both I swallowed, a little water, a little salt.
We were both of us caught up in a flurry of harsh words and yet under these clouds hangin low I sensed a truth slowly unfolding.
With his imminent approach, his signature black hair, loose and wet, aligning with his foreign symmetry those steadfast forward facing eyes loomed above me as the fury of his wind pressed in.
He took hold of my hand.
"You were raised on a promise."
A long moment of sky passed between this giant and I. as we silently contemplated our contrasting anatomy.
Then they came.
That melody of swans.
"A promise?" My voice trembled as I watched the elegance of their form descending.
"A promise." the giant repeated kissing my hand. "A promise for Seraphina."
A Decorated Language
Adaline Dresden & Eden Clare
Musings - Poetic Artistry - Flights of Fancy