okay, this one, is my attempt at personification, and feeling silly after. i hope i redid the colors so less people have hurt eyes.
Looking over the hills, I sit and wait It comes, nigh of thrill In a deathly slow rate
Mist begets the forested plains, The hills yearn to run From it's muggy, clear stain For nature's war had begun
It spilled over the great mound, Like an army on a battlefield Deadly, though without sound It moves ever slow, though shalt not yield
The trees dissapear in it's shadowed cover Brave wisps flank the side, mingling with the thick pine scent While thick dense clouds of another, Shroud the trees like they have meant
It comes faster now, I can feel the misting on my face It's slow sting makes me bow I pull myself in a protective embrace
I can no longer see, I'm surrounded in white fog my hand is invisible in front of me, I might as well be in a poisoned bog
It's clearing around ahead, The mugged cling reclining, I see light that i do not dread, I welcome it, nigh deny it
After it's cleared, I chuckle to myself, and then break out into a straight out laugh, For anyone who would relate mist to an army, Would have to be daft!
enjoy!
Ichimari · Tue May 08, 2007 @ 05:52am · 0 Comments |