Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found in understanding of my self through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life. (I AM SLOWLY MOVING OF BLOGGER< FOR NEW STORIES PLEASE CLICK THE "MEDIUM" LINK TO THE LEFT)
Voices gather throughout this home, as a fire is lit, and music plays softly as children dive rigorously into their imagination. Smells christen the air as they waltz across the sense of pleasurable memories that bring no burden.
The music delicately coats the home like the rising color of crimson along the morning horizon. All is certain in this moment as all have this day in common. No one is forgotten, no go hungry in this is this day that glistens.
Cheerful spirits lift this home from any friction and all become gladdened. The weather frosts the grounds but in here, among the fire, that plays with a hot hand of a chemical heathen. None are opposed or notice the cold. As they drink and laugh among the sweet scent of lemon.
The elders gather the children and begin to tell tales of the magical huntsman. The one that saves the princess from an evil legion. And finds himself against a thousand henchmen, many which are trained horsemen. And in the telling of the story, the children become enthralled in the heroic nature of the huntsman.
They dash off from the story and imagine themselves the huntsman upon a stallion. Riding bravely through the evil queens land to fight the evil henchmen. But like all children, in the creation of an illusion. They bicker about who gets to play the champion. Only to end with much commotion, they drift from the audition.
And in the wild but delightful collection of this beautifully contorted cohesion. A giant bird is given in sacrifice to be humbled in the giving of life. To be thankful for the compassion that lives in this home. To be thankful, though some may have found a downfall, but have hands to help bring back their fallen emotion.
This is but a moment for all that brings a bright eruption of infectious unification, that creates a momentary Utopian symbolization of family constellations. This is what will create the memories to be shared for a life time of conversation.
"Let your umbrella unfold, dance beneath the rain when others won't shelter you with the echoes of love my dear." Her mother said as she kissed her upon the forehead.
Sophia looking up at her mother smiles as she holds her pink umbrella above her head. Her mother, raising up from the kiss takes Sophia by the hand and they begin to walk. Sophia, only five and her father off on a business trip, her mother becomes lonely.
And so they walk, they walk through evenings, mornings, dusk's and dawns. Watching the graceful colors of sunsets and sunrises. Sophia's mother teach's her to admire the colors before them. Not just the wonderful vibrant colors, but also the dull. The gloomy streaks of darkness.
For everything has a purpose in this world. From the thunder storms to clear skies. Sophia, holding her mother's hands as they walk through the rain looks and up and asks, "Mother, why do you cry? Do the colors of this clouded night …
A Pocket Flower
I breathe upon the cold morning glass as I look out into the open plains of the country. And with my finger I draw a heart splitting in two, it quickly fades. I look back out into the world and design a new one.
I let my senses roam wild as imagination rushes from my head like water. Flooding my view with bountiful ideas. I see titans clashing, gods fighting, I see mysteries lingering in the lonely mist. I see monsters creeping from the distant moons and music flow gently from the darkened woods.
I watch golden leaves fall as the sun begins to rise. The soft tone of frozen grass begins to sparkle. I see birds thrust from their nests and chirp to the vast outreaches of nature. I am overwhelmed by what I see, and I smile.
I breathe again upon the cold morning glass. But this time, I draw a single heart held together. I let it fade as the last, but this time I breathe upon the glass once more. I observe the heart I drew with much thought, much intrigue.
Faye paused for a moment, looking the gentlemen before her up and down. She showed no interest as her eyes steered across his body. He wore a tuxedo, a black tuxedo with thin white leather gloves. His hair was pressed back like a wave.
It glistened with a tint of blonde against the festive lights that stood lit around the courtyard. The moon hung with a delicate tone of blue. The stars shone with magnificence, so clearly they could be seen, any sailor could have found his way among them.
After she looked him over she perked her lips, opened her purse and pulled out a stick of lipstick. Faye wore a black dress with a red silk rose sewn above her right breast. She took the lipstick and pressed it to her lips.
A dark crimson stained her puckered lips. As she painted her lips of an alluring red, she paid no attention to the gentlemen before her. Her eyes were kept strictly to the small hand mirror she already had in her…