The day cut through the tight
black shroud of the night
by rays of the sunshine.
The sun kissed sleeping earth
with tender sliding warmth
and smiled in the grey sky.
It stroked the trembling tops
of the big leafy crowns,
awakening old trees.
Large shadows came alive
and run away to hide
from blazing blinding beams.
Magnetic greyish steam
swirled over quickly chilled
black surface of a lake.
Old trees stood at the sedge
uneven trembling edge
and looked through misty lace.
Queen Haze was walking then
among old trees. And swans
were greeting her with heads.
She walked through the black looms,
writing in her grey book
the autumn forest tales.
by Thea Ariss
26.09.2024
The beginning. The Kingdom of Mists
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124092606541
Свидетельство о публикации №124092606541
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