MIST
There is a mist, settled over the mountain
A soft rain whispers a song of early morning
All of sweet dew, drooping palms to pertain
In the street a pigeon struts her nonchalance
Not many faces turn to look over the mountain
The start of a new work week embraces so many
Umbrellas will greet the drizzle, clouds contain
Commuter or driver, yet to wrestle traffic peaks
Surly Monday tempers, in decent hearts amounting
Fit the iterate fate, of facing a weekend ended
There goes the mist now, rising over the mountain
MIST © gillena cox 2015
You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #40, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites
linking to also to The Tuesday Platform
