Open Arms

First time I met Michael

The song flitted the skies, taking me far north where Thompson was my rising inferno that rose with my lonely tales, my heart roamed the empty corridors, climbed the endless spiraled staircases, so far from the still waters, so exposed to the deathly skies in their dark hues, and there I trekked bold encasing of the endless tree lines horizon after horizon.

The sweet melody of the song seemed to soothed my painful skies with such soft effulgence where many diatonic notes I cried, crying into the open arms of the night skies, trying to find my heart in the cries of the morning fowls that came flitting to the branches of my lonely heart, face to face with the lonely horizons.

So silently, you slipped into my devastation, rising up to the soft blue skies, and I reached out with my wisps to the skies that were arched in forever blue, and I soon began to sing the songs of tomorrow as they played on and on, so tirelessly, filling the empty nights. You are like a sunrise filling sweet naughts even after a trying day, and you came to me, but now I come to you with my open arms.

© Rena Scribe 2015

Author's Note

Originally written in December 2007