Thursday, 27 November 2014

Mist



(Picture Credit - Long Lee in Mist by Myself)


Mysterious, mist-kissed hills dismiss my dismal disdain

For Life’s strivings in the ivy wired mire.

Budding blossoms embrace my burgeoning bliss-filled bosom,

As my soul soars into the seething skies.

 

My wings are beating with breathless wonder,

My imagination sends me to a destination

Beyond discrimination, defying appellation,

But not exclamation, at this elevation.

 

Smooth pools of cool blue hue contrast with cliffs

That overhang the huddled houses

Of the hillside village

On the way to who knows where.

 

The mists are shifting, ever drifting

Hiding everything

Except the mountain tops.

A new dimension might await us

Always moving as

Our journey never stops.

 

Paul Butters

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