MYSTIC MIST

A twist in my poetic history.....

MYSTIC MIST
A breezy strain from the peak of a hill,
Bound of strings that scatters thrill.
On a whitish silvery misty spill,
The shutterbugs with many a still.

Singing birds over side by side,
With glittering stars that clouds do hide.
Colder winds, a bolder swing.
Humble lullabies, a tributed wing.

On the snowy slope is the flora's hope,
When the seasons elope it's off to the scope.
A sudden storm awaits the souls,
The whole of flowers without the whorls.

Colder core conquers where
Burning woods are always there,
The only thing that's not at all
Is the hatred between the fauna's fall.

Papers are of just the ink,
With feel and feed proceed your blink.
My dearest one to hold my wrist,
Would love to walk on the Mystic Mist...!!!

[NOTE: The last 2 lines change the whole meaning of the poem. Till that it's a nature poem, but those last 2 lines proves that it's a love poem.]

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