Stumbleupon Review
-
My days are of fire and mist,
mist and fire.
Dreams drift in,
blue over these green hills as
wisps of wanton wishes bud in the trees.
Day barely breaks
in mauve murmurings
from the east.
I turn from ashes of the night
and walk into day,
exhaling dreams,
tilting my face, flower-like,
for dewdrops or tears
gathering on my face.
My days are of fire and mist
mist and fire.
Flames and shadows dance in a ring at my feet.
and I am only half warm
with mists across my shoulders
like a cold, damp cloak.
Smoke slips over these dark hills
across a sometimes moon.
I am held here,
moth-like
to a flame I dare not touch
until I am a shadow
or a mist.