mist in green


Seasons of senses. wisps of undressed green. fallen into the mystery of you.  never to stifle breaths with boredom or climb static walls of impressionist art pieces. find me moving through mist.  I’m the one with dew on my lips, calling to you. each day anew.


4 thoughts on “mist in green

    • “When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.” – John Dryden 🙂 Thank you dearest Dalloway.

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