Musings Of A Clouded Mind
In The Mist
The sun slips through the early morning mist
to light the forest with a gentle hand.
The dawn bids all to rise, but some resist
with dreams of time and space so strange and grand.
The mist surrounds the trees and hugs the ground
as creatures lift their heads to look. They seem
to sense a stately presence all around.
The unicorn, alone, drinks from the stream.
The forest birds sing out their welcome song
in tribute to the mighty, magic steed.
He bows his head acknowledging the throng,
then disappears in gallop at full speed.
At times the misty moments seem so real
in dreams of realms we know that cannot last,
but lift your eyes to look and you may steal
a glimpse of magic as he gallops past.
Copyright By
Anita Lewis Longino
March 30, 2002
to light the forest with a gentle hand.
The dawn bids all to rise, but some resist
with dreams of time and space so strange and grand.
The mist surrounds the trees and hugs the ground
as creatures lift their heads to look. They seem
to sense a stately presence all around.
The unicorn, alone, drinks from the stream.
The forest birds sing out their welcome song
in tribute to the mighty, magic steed.
He bows his head acknowledging the throng,
then disappears in gallop at full speed.
At times the misty moments seem so real
in dreams of realms we know that cannot last,
but lift your eyes to look and you may steal
a glimpse of magic as he gallops past.
Copyright By
Anita Lewis Longino
March 30, 2002
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In The Mist
In The Mist
