Morning In Mist

So soft, and humble

He whispers through the night

In the dawn, it lingers

Still frosted in the air


He, arose, and in a silent breath he took,

The curtain in his hand

And pulled away, shed were light and headed in

Through glass, through body, hair and mind


So close, yet gentle

He whispered her to wake

To see, the birds flight from north

And the oak, stood silent on its place


The fog, wermth hill, and together they both sat,

With their teacups in their hands

And drank, as the wind outside fell asleep

In the morning, through grey, grey sky and heart

The End

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