As the new day awakens, I appear,
and float majestically as I am born.
My skirt does billow in a dance austere,
as I touch the lake in the early morn.

I raise my veil as a beautiful cloak,
and feel my power as I grow in strength.
I peacefully cover the wooded oak,
embracing beauty, encompassing length.

Yet as the new day, approaches her hour,
and light pushes darkness away from the sky,
a sadness arrives as I lose my pow’r,
and I slowly burn, and I surely die.

I’m morning mist and I’m meant to be free.
I’ll be back tomorrow for all to see.

by Amera Andersen

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