The Mist

a poem by tobias kerins, UK

The mist it hangs, it lurks and breathes
In the darkest places, like scheming thieves
It spreads with ease, no stone unturned
Where it goes, it's not concerned

It greets the grass, and leaves of plants
And covers nature, with a merry dance
In bandstands hides, and old barns waits
Surrounds bell towers, and soaks roof slates

The land of the dead, the graveyard comes
The mist moves in, and quietly hums
Across the ponds, the fireflies fly
The toads observe, from beady eye

And still the mist, on an onward roll
Seek and search, fill every hole
Strive with might, smother cranny and nook
If the chance it came, the mist it took

The tide would change, so very soon
When he said goodnight, our friend the moon
Like a vampire, with the rays of light
The mist it trembled, filled with fright

The sun emerged, this burning torch
And would the mist, devour and scorch
To be no more, this day he'd hate
Slowly mist, evaporate


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