The Eastern Bay

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Something i wrote. Please comment on it.

Submitted: March 30, 2016

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Submitted: March 30, 2016



The weather is fowl, and the day is gray. I've been starring at the cold dead water, of the Eastern Bay. The trees are dead, and the fish are hidden. I stand with my toes in the waters and these dreams forbidden.

But while the sadness won't last, these people won't die, I might fear this small luxury, of ever touching that blue sky. I can see him way up there, a black bird, with jagged wings, with a melancholy voice through his beak with sorrow sings.

And my heart wept, as it saw the forbidden dream. My body fought now, to see the bay, turn to a stream. And my little voice said, the hardest part is reaching out, my little voice said, don't take the risk of that doubt.

And now I've been flying, I've got nothing to loose. No one to catch me if I fall, while starring at my muse. The only thing I see, are those blackened dark feathers. And they are like tiny hopes, planted, and awakened, now whispers.

Up here the wind is bitter, but the sun is bright! My bones are numbed, but the air was ripe. Now my eyes are opened, and my wings are wide, my black bird listens, while I sing by his side. And maybe it won't change, nothing ever but this wind in my ear, nothing ever, but this excitment, and fear. I'm flying now, flying in the frightful blue, while starring down, at the death and the truth.

Sometimes the smell of Death and decay, will haunt my memory of The Eastern Bay. It will pass like a stranger of the night, but the little voice spoke, and my god, he was right.

The hardest part is reaching out. Because of fear and the doubt.

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