poet

You challenged me with your mist.

Along your path, you hissed.

A roar, a flow, a gravitating blow, there was no release to your taunting.

Right by you, I walked.

I could smell you, without an effort or a thought.

As you reached my toes, you bellowed out more of your rough talk.

The thought of following you out, amongst your depths, is still a thought, a very daunting thought that is quite haunting.

-M.