In the morning mist
Of the untouched field,
To plunge into the night anew
Is a promise I deny to keep.

In the morning mist,
Where the moist earth
Is of the winged creatures' to sweep,
I sit on the dew laden grass,
With thoughts I ponder on so deep.

In the morning mist,
Which beholds the scent of magic,
I prize the fauna's mesmerised sway.
The morning mist evades my sense,
As I lie awhile in blissfull consequence.

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