Runpad

The dream flowed on.
It was the deceitfullness of the day
Build, slapdash and slipshod
Over the dross of past. Surveyed
Counted, found wanting.
This dream of delicate mists
Thoughtless and beautifull
As they clung to the hills
And thus outshone their betters.
And yet, fragile as a promise kept
Beneath my wandering gaze
Oblivian bested
Them, they faded away.
Slipping through my fingers
A tide of dismay
Thoughtless and beautifull
As they flowed through
My insufficient grasp.