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Tales from the Mist

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Magick of the Night

Goddess of the Mist

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She can feel the magick of the night

the moon a sliver of cold white light

in a star-speckled vastness that no one owns

where mystery stays and finds a home

 

Mists so thick as they tumble in

from a storm-tossed sea she can hear the din

of those monster waves coming crashing down

on the windswept shores of a sleepy little town

 

Of a winter white night there can be no doubt

it’s a time when most choose to not go out

the dogs lay sleeping and the children doze

everybody bundled in their warmest nighttime clothes

 

Save one little gypsy, looks out at the night

from her rumble tumble caravan, it’s such a sight!

Brightly colored, brightly lit, she’s been from sea to sea

fortunes and divinity, only she can see

and the road never ends, and the nights are long

and she makes it through, day to day

with a prayer and a song

 

 

© Goddess of the Mist

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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