Categories
Poetry

The Purple Mist

Underneath the shade of the dark clouds
I stand appalled at the sight of a purple mist
Wondering the source, I walk forward to see
Glowing in the dark was a mysterious pine tree.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

There was a lady with white hair
Under a black, hooded cloak.
Standing under the tree
She spotted me.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

She lifted her hood and to my surprise,
She wasn’t an old lady but a young girl.
She smiled at me and I was dazed
Something was wrong with me,
I wasn’t ever so amazed.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

She asked me, “Do you come in search of something?”
I replied, “The purple mist.”
I didn’t know what was happening,
Not even aware of what I was blabbering.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

“Come with me,” she said
And led me to a house behind.
“You must be cold,” she said,
“It’s just the lavender amidst the fog.”
We sat outside on a log
And talked endlessly.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But who cares,
I liked where I was
And where the clouds had led.

By ishansavio

Analytics Consultant, Musician, Photographer, Personal Blogger

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