Mist

Silence, packed in cotton colors;
Fragile morning, still and white,
Lost within the chilly dampness,
Praying for the coming light.
Hopelessly, she wandered deeper,
Locked in swirling tides of grey,
Weeping tears of fear and sorrow,
Trapped where only shadows play.

Insubstantial as the vapor
Twining round the trees and bay;
Her tears dissolve within the light,
Burned like mist, by rising day. For in the darkest mists of night
There still dwells the hope of dawn
And in that hope she found the strength
To simply rise and carry on.