she was young then. full of ideals. full of dreams.
the future lay in front. a path strewn with roses and the occasional thorn. there were hills and vales. there were stars and rain. butterflies and honey. and strong dependable trees.
but it was the mist that alas captivated her.
the enchanting veil of vapour that hung tantalisingly down a shady dale.
she threw caution to the winds...
she even forgot the boundaries of logic...
she was lost in the rhapsody....
she could touch the cold cold beauty....
she lingered at the periphery of wonder...
but
she couldn't catch a bowlful of mist....
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