I was waiting.
Waiting for the Angel choir.
Waiting for the timeless alibi.
Waiting for the reverberation from a giant's silent world
a little water,
a little salt.
His black hair aligning with his face he was making his approach with dark eyes and a face painted with rain.
I was sensing a truth beginning to show, under clouds hanging low, and I wanted to be anywhere, anywhere but here. Here with the fury of his wind pressing in on me. His steadfast gaze still caught in the flurry of harsh words and my long hair caught in our flight, a long moment of sky passed between this giant and I.
"You were raised on a promise." he said calmly taking my hand.
From somewhere far away a melody of swans floated on by.
My voice trembled a little, as did my heart. "A promise?"
His gaze lifted.
Taking hold of my hand he carefully inspected our contrasting anatomy. His forward facing eyes now illuminated I knew, I knew the truth to the lyrical reverberation of this giant's silent world. Yes, I knew now how it all began.
"A promise..." he repeated softly kissing my hand. "A promise for Saraphina."
a decorated language
Adaline Dresden and EdenClare
Musings - Poetic Artistry - Flights of Fancy
We had come to the water's edge, the giant and I. His forward facing eyes seemingly cast upon something beyond his massive hands were unfolding.