A Decorated Language
Adaline Dresden & Eden Clare
Musings - Poetic Artistry - Flights of Fancy
I was waiting.
Waiting for the Angel choir.
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. His massive hands were unfolding every so slowly. Sensing a truth beginning to show, under clouds hanging low, I wanted to be anywhere, anywhere but here. We were, both of us, caught up in the flurry of harsh words and as I watched his signature black hair, now loose and wet, aligning with his angled face, the fury of his wind pressed in on me with his imminent approach.
"You were raised on a promise." He said quietly his steadfast eyes now looming above me..
"A promise?" My voice trembled.
A long moment of sky passed between this giant and I.
Somewhere far away, a melody of swans floated on by. He took hold of my hand, inspecting our contrasting anatomy.
Our gaze met, under clouds and rain, and I saw how those dark ominous orbs, how they had changed. All aglow with a golden lyrical hue, my eyes began to tear.
I had waited forever to know the truth, and now my heart knew it, knew how it all began.
"A promise..." he repeated bending over to gently kiss my hand. "A promise for Seraphina."