Micah Park Biffle

 Maiden of the Lake    I swear I saw her, the maiden of the lake. I saw her on a late night walk as I passed behind a distant row of trees. My heart beat irregular that night. Something pulled my eyes toward the glimmering lake, I remember vividly.  The night was brisk, the stars shimmered from the sky as their light laid upon the lake like cream. Glittering to the gentle waves created by the oh so bitter wind. My hands rested stiffly in my pockets as I tried to keep warm.  My thoughts were lonely, a cold crisp pattern of thinking yanked my already stressed mind. But as I was walking, battling the torment of my thoughts. The odd sense to veer my eyes toward the mirroring lake led me to see her. To witness the magic I have only heard of.   It was surreal, nothing could have accounted for a more brilliant and magical moment. It was beautiful, a captivating wonder. Nothing could describe what I saw, a woman fair of everything. A woman so vivid of ...

   An Artist's Touch    How lovely she be, her hair curling beneath her blossoming hat. The gentle kempt design of each strain. The dark glow against the morning sun as her dark hair rests upon her shoulders. Dangling like threads of silk. Divine I say, absolutely divine.   Her eyes, their complexion spill with the delicacy of the soul. Spilling like colors of the morning sun against a glistening sea. I can feel her presence even when we are distant in stare. Their vibrant collection of life, how much she has lived in such little space, such short time.   My brush, carefully stroking against the canvass with passion. Allowing her existence to become the reality of this art. Her art, her, she is everything. How wild her curves play against the contrast of this world. Nature bares much, but there is no competition to be had.  For even nature shows she'd be foolish to rival such beauty. Her skin, smooth as the melting light from an evening mo...