Micah Park Biffle

Champagne Wane   I remember her well, like one remembers the death of a friend. Something you never forget and something that forever remains. And though we were destined to die, as does the ash from a burning pipe.  I still taste her, feel her as if she is the wind and the savory smoke of a cigar. She's last nights Bourbon, shes the morning dew, the frozen ice that hangs, waiting to melt; waiting to fall. But there are no hands, no hearts that can catch her.  For she is too cold, frigid like the Arctic plains. She will flow to you like a severed glacier. And in her lonely state she shall find you upon a sandy shore, just as she found me. And like distant stars she will shine, glimmering with a call for love.  She will reach out with a soft whisper as her rosy cheeks grip you with lust. And you, the lonely fool upon a sandy shore in midwinter. Will reach out with a hand, quivering to the brisk air and you shall risk the bite of  raw ocean tears....

 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 ...

 Lady Isabella and The Violinist   I see her, her blues eyes casting moonbeams through the dark crowd. I can't resist, her allure is, magnificent. She is a baroque among this shadowed audience, but they are blind to her beauty, her light. Unaware of her elegant presence as she glows between the mingling of others.  Her lips stained with crimson and her pale skin blush with rosy cheeks. I can feel her from across the room as one feels their own hear. I am enraptured by her, the moment I found her, saw her. Infatuated with this mystery woman of refinement, I make my way through the crowd with careful urgency while holding my drink.   I see she holds no champagne of her own, a waitress is near by as I cross through the blind audience. I grasp a full glass from the waitress tray with ease, a fluid confidence takes me. Maybe it is the melody of the piano that softly plays among the mumbling of the party.  Or maybe, it is her. Maybe she knows she has...