The Mist and The Rose

The Mist stealthily



              Dances across the ground



    Like a skater over the ice,

           

        as a black and white movie in slow motion.



There is nothing free

 

          Of its encircling tentacles as it sways to and fro,



                It plays hide and seek with the elements



A Rose stands gracefully alone and melancholy



          As the Mist crawls seductively around her stem



  Of thorns to embellish the velvet red pedals with



                    A soft gentle kiss of dew.



As the Mist is no longer,



  It leaves in its wake a solitary, pure red Rose,



                                    Damp from her surrender,



                            Gently touched.