Dr.Ram Mehta Poet Ottava rima

Mist

There was nothing to see but only mist
Running here and there, and grabbing the trees
Oh, my feelings, there were many to list.
Giving mystical look, shrouding the trees
An owl’s screech, then a squirrel’s panic twists
Gazing higher, saw pretty eyes with glee 
In misty clouds lingering on a breeze
Of sweet times, I saw the path and fears ceased.
 
                      +++
August 27, 2014
Form: Ottava Rima
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest: Mist by nette onclaud

**I missed the contest**

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Dr. Upma A. Sharma August 28, 2014 at 10:56 AM Very fine write Dr Ram! Good luck to u!

Robert Gruhn August 27, 2014 at 11:15 PM Hey Doc, interesting piece, but using the word "trees" twice? Especially to rhyme? RWG Robert Gruhn August 27, 2014 at 11:40 PM ok, accepted, but, mist and list, trees and trees, that is rhyming! RWG Dr.Ram Mehta August 27, 2014 at 11:19 PM No, those are two different expressions,