Midnight Mists

Midnight Mists
Form: Octaves

The ashen clouds that fall at witching hour
to cross the sleepless hours that watch the moon
engulf the moon in shrouds of hazy dreams.
A dreamy state where fairies come to play,
as pipers play a dancing midnight tune,
Fortune teller waits for my open hand.
Destiny’s hand creeping far away,
the way to float beside the fluffy clouds.


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