ace of prudes

Perhaps preachy prose prys too prudently into people's perspectives. That I say what I want to hear without acknowledging the flaws. Like an early taste of cold encroaching our lively October, the words cut their way in line to everyone's disgust. Keep the heart warm at all cost, if not open. The summer leaves the air, but let it retreat within us, finding shelter in the spacious caverns of our soul: the only source of warmth in the bleakest of black nights without power. Like an injured bird running short on time to escape the deathly chill, my hands motion for it to come here. Rest easy by the fire. A pinball machine, posters, rows of shoes, unpacked boxes. Not much for a bird to enjoy. But your wings will strengthen and carry you back home, with a little help from a friend.