The mists gallop wild to a place unknown,
Hidden from the world left all alone..
Scatter off they will when the sun grows bright,
The rays of light will disperse their skin so white..
Messengers of storm they are or a change to come,
Surprises they bring arent exactly choices of some..
Winds of change they might be,not all are welcome,
Embrace them nonetheless, they have fables of some..
Travelled far they have, seen all forms of life,
Ice they were, then water, now vapour so ripe..
Learn not from them that with time they change form,
That their mere presence ring bells of alarm..
Poor winds they are, just in a phase of life,
But watch them close, they preserve their white..
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