Mists of Time
Time is a human construct to think about...
"No song or spokenword for this poem. I just wanted it to be raw. To focus on the vss365 prompt and the artwork. I tried to use words that would help you feel and picture a scene from a magical misty country morning, one that happens in my local area in Wales, UK almost every day. The artwork is attempting to do the same"
Ground-beaten raindrops begin their climb.
A heavy heat lingers before pressures align.
Darkness dampens sight, a lone bird chuckles.
Storm clouds tense, edges move like knuckles.
A few rays of light attack the ground.
Something stirs but makes no sound.
A misty mirage confuses the senses.
Time gets caught inside invisible fences.
The morning dance has just begun.
More birds join in upon seeing the sun.
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