Standing at the edge of New York’s skyline, its apartments alight with familial warmth. Though he feels only cold sleet pelting against his white collared shirt and the tie tightening by the will of the wind. He had gotten lost on the way up, Finding certain peace when he found the way down. A long way down. As he fantasizes about dancing with gravity, A woman of pale porcelain grasps his coattail. Dressed in a bright yellow raincoat, red umbrella in hand. Her ruby lips part, as she inches closer to him, the red silk roof shelters the two and provides a delicate rhythm of pitter-patter for their ears. Looking into her viridian eyes. A memory of endless evergreen forests unfolds before him. His knees buckle and falling away, he feels her embrace, and the fire-lit hearth within her heart.
0 Comments
|
Carson TidwellArchivesCategories |