The sky was a misty grey. It was getting ready to rain and Lyssa loved the rain. To dance in it and to play in it. She wanted to go jump in big puddles. But it hadn’t rained yet. But soon it would. She hummed softly as she brushed her hair. Dancing to the beat of her own drum, ready and waiting for her date tonight. Taking a
People always try to imagine what a cloud would feel like. “It would be soft and fluffy and bouncy and fun!” Untrue. We know what clouds feel like. Wet. Damp. Cold. Fog. Mist. Little droplets that cling and chill whatever they touch.
Looking outside her window, Lilly smiled softly and crept out the door. It was far too early, the sun still sleeping in the clouds and the birds still dreaming of the early worm, but Lilly didn’t care. Her parents slept upstairs and the little girl, clad in nothing but her nightdress, slipped out the door. Her home, a quaint little cottage tucked away in between rolling hills and ever-lasting fields, didn’t say a word as the red headed girl escaped from it. Dancing on the dew wet grass, Lilly looked to the starry sky and smiled. The spring mist had enveloped the fields around her, and for the single moment – she was the centre of the world, the little ginger girl in her nightdress as light as the mist itself.
Unsure. Confused. Her heart thumped inside her chest when his rough hands grasped hers. But….
She was a little hazy. It was all a little misty.
She decided to sleep on it.
in the misty darkness,
my childhood comes rushing back in waves of dim nostalgia,
I imagine living in the moment as i had done when i was in my youth
but slowly as the years go by and your innocence is slowly lost you become empty and live for the future and past and not for yourself.
I stop paddling the canoe and gaze up at the straight cliffs that rise up on either side of me. The snowy peaks are shrouded in a cloak of pale chilly mist, and i shiver at the thought of spending any more time here alone.
the misty morning. that’s the song mommy used to sing to me. i don’t know the words though, just that it reminds me of the cat. and bedtime when she would lie next to me and sing me songs and it didn’t exactly matter if i was listening. i didn’t rightly care, it was just nice to have her there.
The sky was fogged up, I could barely see my own hand in front of me. The river below me reflected nothing but white, and i watched as I was ferried across it on the gondola. I gazed into the reflection, imagining it to represent my own life, with all of its happiness and failures, amounting to nothing.
Five miles down from the mouth of the misty river was a shack on the bank of a small leafy inlet. It was the place he had taken her when he first realised what was about to happen.
As soon as Victor had passed the mountains, he slowed. He had evaded capture, for the sixth time. He was quite the lucky shapeshifter. Having the blood of eagles in his veins helped, his father would say. He inhaled one long breath and continued on his journey, allowing his large eagle wings to create a slipstream in the mist.
it was a misty morning on the pond and you could see the sun coming up over the trees. It was the perfect morning to wake up early and sip a hot chocolate.
the fog that covers the blue ocean, hindering the sight of the great blue beyond. beautiful in its own right but in the forest meadow in the morning, gently hazing out the life that lies there, kaiing everything shimmer. But on the ocean, no. it belongs here.
It was a cool misty evening walking through downtown Ireland. There was something magical about the surroundings. I could feel the excitement on the horizon. As the sun began to set, I took your hand and looked into your eyes asked with a smile, “What mischief can we cause on a glorious night like this?”
The misty fog blurred my vision. I tried to see through it but I just couldn’t! I couldn’t see her face/ I just had to but i couldn’t. I was so close. If only I could see, just for a second. At last!
it was a misty evening that night. all they could see was mist. it was like the weather couldn’t tell whether it wanted to rain, or just be foggy. mist is one of those in-between whether aspects. it’s hard not to wonder about it, if you ask me.
I could not see ahead of me, I could not because of the clouds that had descended onto the earth, covering it in a blanket of white, obstructing my view, making me feel like I was alone. I loved it.
I look out the window, or at least try to. The world outside is so misty, and i’m not sure if I want to go out. It’s beautiful in a way, but in another way it’s scary. I can’t tell what’s out there, what’s waiting to jump out at me, or take me away. Or maybe I do want to go outside, maybe I could get lost and everything would be okay. I don’t know, it’s like the mist is in my brain, I can’t think straight either.
I had to get out. It was a misty morning it was very difficult to see through the thick magical fog. The mist sprayed up from the lake and nearby ponds and sprinkled my face with small beads. I was on a mision. Needing to get out of there. I knew I had to go quickly so I ran. Pushing through the dense low misty clouds. I felt like I was running in slow motion. Like in a dramatic movie. Running Running Running. The mist was wet and started running down my face. Or at least I think it was mist. It could have been sweat. Or even blood from the branches I flew through. I needed to get away. Faster faster faster. Pushing pushing. I forced a quick peek behind me and saw the lights getting closer and closer.
A misty rain had dampened their plans for a picnic. The children huddled inside at the window anticipating the clouds clearing and the sun peering out.
My Papa and Nana used to have a dog named Misty. She was adorable. And treated like a princess. In their house, my Papa and Nana have a canvas painting of her, and their other two dogs too. It’s pretty cool.
He described the memory as being misty.
Because he passed out.
After he thought he saw me.
After he thought I told him it was all a joke.
That I had never stopped loving him.
That I had lied.
lake mornings watching the world wake up around us. feeling the yawn of mother nature as the day is re-born again. Yesterday is forgotten, tomorrow is still too far away. Sit still. And watch the mist consume us, hug us, love us.
in the breeziness of islands on my face make me breath a sigh of relief i am still by his side. i don’t think i could bare it if i would no longer be with him. his breath reminds me how shot our time is together
misty, the name of that one chick from pokemon that had small tits and always used water based pokemon like a noob. she and ash should’ve gotten together and made some babies, but he probably felt like he had to overcompensate for being mexican or something, so he was too focused on the joto league (sp?) to let the relationship between him and missy to develop.
The misty morning sunlight startled Bekka into awareness. She glanced up, finding that she was lying on a small blanket stretched out in a lone cave. A beam of sunlight gleamed up, and she stared upwards, wondering how she had arrived here.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Bekka turned, looking through the thin mist and seeing a thin figure make his way towards her. He was male. She knew that much. Carefully, Bekka reached for a sword, finding it tucked in her pocket. Some inadequate kidnapper this was.
The mist cleared, and Bekka blinked.
“Perren!” she cried. “You gave me a heart attack!”
Walking down the misty road, George realized things weren’t right in Ebernstein. There was utter and complete silence in the mist. Even his flashlight didn’t penetrate the deep fog that coated the town.
She smiled at me, misty-eyed. I wrapped her in my arms, holding her like a delicate flower as she wilted; kissed by dew. I held her and I knew I needed to protect her.
Misty-eyed, with love and make-believe. You twirl in your frilly dress and awe at the pine trees glistening with dew under the sun’s dawn light. You wish on the stars, convince yourself that what you have is real and tangible.
Pokemon comes to mind. When I was a little kid I used yo watch the TV show Pokemon and Misty was one of the names of the min characters in that show. She was the second gym leader who joined ask and brock on their quest to become pokemon masters.
The sky was a misty grey. It was getting ready to rain and Lyssa loved the rain. To dance in it and to play in it. She wanted to go jump in big puddles. But it hadn’t rained yet. But soon it would. She hummed softly as she brushed her hair. Dancing to the beat of her own drum, ready and waiting for her date tonight. Taking a
People always try to imagine what a cloud would feel like. “It would be soft and fluffy and bouncy and fun!” Untrue. We know what clouds feel like. Wet. Damp. Cold. Fog. Mist. Little droplets that cling and chill whatever they touch.
Looking outside her window, Lilly smiled softly and crept out the door. It was far too early, the sun still sleeping in the clouds and the birds still dreaming of the early worm, but Lilly didn’t care. Her parents slept upstairs and the little girl, clad in nothing but her nightdress, slipped out the door. Her home, a quaint little cottage tucked away in between rolling hills and ever-lasting fields, didn’t say a word as the red headed girl escaped from it. Dancing on the dew wet grass, Lilly looked to the starry sky and smiled. The spring mist had enveloped the fields around her, and for the single moment – she was the centre of the world, the little ginger girl in her nightdress as light as the mist itself.
Unsure. Confused. Her heart thumped inside her chest when his rough hands grasped hers. But….
She was a little hazy. It was all a little misty.
She decided to sleep on it.
in the misty darkness,
my childhood comes rushing back in waves of dim nostalgia,
I imagine living in the moment as i had done when i was in my youth
but slowly as the years go by and your innocence is slowly lost you become empty and live for the future and past and not for yourself.
I stop paddling the canoe and gaze up at the straight cliffs that rise up on either side of me. The snowy peaks are shrouded in a cloak of pale chilly mist, and i shiver at the thought of spending any more time here alone.
the misty morning. that’s the song mommy used to sing to me. i don’t know the words though, just that it reminds me of the cat. and bedtime when she would lie next to me and sing me songs and it didn’t exactly matter if i was listening. i didn’t rightly care, it was just nice to have her there.
It was a quiet misty night and the clocks were striking twelve. Harold hurried through the empty London streets. Moisture clung to his overcoat as he
The fog settled on the blue lakes of her eyes, turning their sharp azure hue a dull grey, and like that life went out.
The sky was fogged up, I could barely see my own hand in front of me. The river below me reflected nothing but white, and i watched as I was ferried across it on the gondola. I gazed into the reflection, imagining it to represent my own life, with all of its happiness and failures, amounting to nothing.
I can’t see a thing, but worse… it feels sticky and my hair is frizzing.
Five miles down from the mouth of the misty river was a shack on the bank of a small leafy inlet. It was the place he had taken her when he first realised what was about to happen.
As soon as Victor had passed the mountains, he slowed. He had evaded capture, for the sixth time. He was quite the lucky shapeshifter. Having the blood of eagles in his veins helped, his father would say. He inhaled one long breath and continued on his journey, allowing his large eagle wings to create a slipstream in the mist.
And then he said to me, “don’t worry, I’ll build it for you.”
I was caught foff guard, not by what he said, but by how misty my eyes had become.
Rain that is falling on my head making my hair frizzy, cool refreshing, pretty on the flowers and grass. Niagra falls
it was a misty morning on the pond and you could see the sun coming up over the trees. It was the perfect morning to wake up early and sip a hot chocolate.
the fog that covers the blue ocean, hindering the sight of the great blue beyond. beautiful in its own right but in the forest meadow in the morning, gently hazing out the life that lies there, kaiing everything shimmer. But on the ocean, no. it belongs here.
happiness, life, human beings. But the sunlight will set, only if you want it to.
It was a cool misty evening walking through downtown Ireland. There was something magical about the surroundings. I could feel the excitement on the horizon. As the sun began to set, I took your hand and looked into your eyes asked with a smile, “What mischief can we cause on a glorious night like this?”
Misty. like the name? Or perhaps a type of weather: fog? Misty could also mean a feeling. A bad feeling? Or one that makes you queasy?
The misty fog blurred my vision. I tried to see through it but I just couldn’t! I couldn’t see her face/ I just had to but i couldn’t. I was so close. If only I could see, just for a second. At last!
it was a misty evening that night. all they could see was mist. it was like the weather couldn’t tell whether it wanted to rain, or just be foggy. mist is one of those in-between whether aspects. it’s hard not to wonder about it, if you ask me.
I could not see ahead of me, I could not because of the clouds that had descended onto the earth, covering it in a blanket of white, obstructing my view, making me feel like I was alone. I loved it.
mistybreeze, my uncles dog, mysterious, foggy, misty the woman, my neighbor that i dont have. silent just silent.
I look out the window, or at least try to. The world outside is so misty, and i’m not sure if I want to go out. It’s beautiful in a way, but in another way it’s scary. I can’t tell what’s out there, what’s waiting to jump out at me, or take me away. Or maybe I do want to go outside, maybe I could get lost and everything would be okay. I don’t know, it’s like the mist is in my brain, I can’t think straight either.
I had to get out. It was a misty morning it was very difficult to see through the thick magical fog. The mist sprayed up from the lake and nearby ponds and sprinkled my face with small beads. I was on a mision. Needing to get out of there. I knew I had to go quickly so I ran. Pushing through the dense low misty clouds. I felt like I was running in slow motion. Like in a dramatic movie. Running Running Running. The mist was wet and started running down my face. Or at least I think it was mist. It could have been sweat. Or even blood from the branches I flew through. I needed to get away. Faster faster faster. Pushing pushing. I forced a quick peek behind me and saw the lights getting closer and closer.
cold and wet
A misty rain had dampened their plans for a picnic. The children huddled inside at the window anticipating the clouds clearing and the sun peering out.
My Papa and Nana used to have a dog named Misty. She was adorable. And treated like a princess. In their house, my Papa and Nana have a canvas painting of her, and their other two dogs too. It’s pretty cool.
leaves rain morning clean my head freshness pure wonderful cold life free thoughts grass nature
He described the memory as being misty.
Because he passed out.
After he thought he saw me.
After he thought I told him it was all a joke.
That I had never stopped loving him.
That I had lied.
lake mornings watching the world wake up around us. feeling the yawn of mother nature as the day is re-born again. Yesterday is forgotten, tomorrow is still too far away. Sit still. And watch the mist consume us, hug us, love us.
in the breeziness of islands on my face make me breath a sigh of relief i am still by his side. i don’t think i could bare it if i would no longer be with him. his breath reminds me how shot our time is together
misty, the name of that one chick from pokemon that had small tits and always used water based pokemon like a noob. she and ash should’ve gotten together and made some babies, but he probably felt like he had to overcompensate for being mexican or something, so he was too focused on the joto league (sp?) to let the relationship between him and missy to develop.
The misty morning sunlight startled Bekka into awareness. She glanced up, finding that she was lying on a small blanket stretched out in a lone cave. A beam of sunlight gleamed up, and she stared upwards, wondering how she had arrived here.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Bekka turned, looking through the thin mist and seeing a thin figure make his way towards her. He was male. She knew that much. Carefully, Bekka reached for a sword, finding it tucked in her pocket. Some inadequate kidnapper this was.
The mist cleared, and Bekka blinked.
“Perren!” she cried. “You gave me a heart attack!”
Walking down the misty road, George realized things weren’t right in Ebernstein. There was utter and complete silence in the mist. Even his flashlight didn’t penetrate the deep fog that coated the town.
She smiled at me, misty-eyed. I wrapped her in my arms, holding her like a delicate flower as she wilted; kissed by dew. I held her and I knew I needed to protect her.
tips of mountain tops
corners of your eyes
redheads in denim shorts
and the mornings on foggy isles
Misty-eyed, with love and make-believe. You twirl in your frilly dress and awe at the pine trees glistening with dew under the sun’s dawn light. You wish on the stars, convince yourself that what you have is real and tangible.
Pokemon comes to mind. When I was a little kid I used yo watch the TV show Pokemon and Misty was one of the names of the min characters in that show. She was the second gym leader who joined ask and brock on their quest to become pokemon masters.