The Mist of Death

March 13, 2012
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Summer afternoon all is well
Sun shines through, the flowers sing
Unnoticed by anyone or anything
A black cloud moves in without a sound
Now silence rings out louder than a thousand drums

Freezing rain descends cloaked in darkness
The cloud comes lower and with it comes mist
The mists of darkness are among us as thick as black mud
The flowers freeze forever more
To be as still as death itself

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