mist rose to greet her
branches beckoned, an inviting canopy
mood match she thought
vaporous vines, vaporous lives
a New Year of empty promises
as if 60 seconds held wishes
like a bottled genie
no fairy tale, a minute in time
all remains the same, her name
drizzled in the cloud
cold numbing awaits
a release to the pain, a surrender of self
her crumpled up list of resolutions
fluttered on the ground
as she embraced the haze
(Participating in Jenny Matlock's Saturday Centus which I have missed for way too long)
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