Mist

As mist they come, these days taken in

Pieces, not given in hours but

Moments defined by singular fascination.

Drifting; muted, matted, music of such

Loud silence it treads the

Skin and melts into careful formulations.

Even when vanished by

Pointed light, such melody lingers to

Speak of dew and damp, cool and crisp,

Freshness which fills the lungs and awakens

Sadness to look upward, not down,

Forward, not back.

So I wait for mist and watch for

Dew, hoping not once, but thrice these

Moments will appear before

Dawn carries them from outreached

Fingers. Stay near me, moments of

Mist; give me such

Happiness.

~ HMC Cheryl

Copyright August 2008