And the doves flew up to meet me,
In a world of western white,
And I flew along the path least traveled,
If only to relinquish that grip too tight,
Emotion swelled beneath my chest,
The passion never darkened,
We waltzed along to Heaven’s gate,
And our world increasingly sharpened,
We saw the mistakes we ambled over,
Our heads up in the clouds,
Wishing not but to improve ourselves,
But simply rise above the clouds.
The second star to the right
“The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.”
I love writing. I just really do. Some of my stories are short, and have no room for a sequel or prequel, but that seems quite alright to me. When I write, things just start flowing out of me, from my fingertips to the keyboard, not really any stops in between. I trust the participants of Ficlets to respect that, and to read, and hopefully enjoy, my thoughts.
“Son, one day you will make a girl happy for a short period of time. Then she’ll leave you and be with men ten times better than you. Those men are called musicians.”
My “series” are not really series; the storylines are not complete or at all detailed enough. I consider everything I write as sort of a warm-up, myself preparing for my first attempt at a Ficlets series. Everyone has been so kind about it, nothing but compliments, and I appreciate that so much.
Published on October 23, 2007.
This story (like all ficlets) is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License. What does this mean?
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Heaven
Posted 11 months ago
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