Twilight In Wundanyi
Soon as the sun behind the hills sinks
The mist loses no chance
It creeps,
Stealthy,
Like a hushed assembly of white ghosts
Then the air gets damp and chilly
The blue hills become hazy
And the air,
Once sheer
Is now pale grey and pasty.
Copyright © Hellen Masido | Year Posted 2011
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