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Walking Mist
Mist rolls in from over the ocean
A thick canopy hanging across the water
Like a bridal veil over the face of a lover.
The chill seeps into the soul's bones,
Down past skin and muscle,
There to remain until the end of time.
The air here is fresh and clean,
Sprays of salt water and the seagull's cry
Transport the mind to different tides.
The sand is soft beneath translucent bare feet
As one soul wanders into the waves
That hungrily creep along the shoreline.
