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I wish the mist
would swallow me --
it swallows trees
in white oceans
where I could swim
across valleys,
peering at birds
asleep below.
I would ride slow
currents of clouds
catching the crest
of the morning
until soft waves
slip me ashore
then drift away
to summer skies.
good alliterative weaving. good pallitive, but that's a non poetic matter
a little on the whispy side, make it longer, it has too much of a tendecy to disapppear, without transporting.