Is it in the early of the day?
The center of time which dissects the whole?
Maybe the dark of the night where light is deep
In the far reaches of the universes
It matters not when the mist is made known
Or the ingredients that causes this event
As in the laughter of children at play
The loss of one loved so deep
Viewing a moment as the heart swells
And the mind absorbs all that is before you
Overflowing with emotions want to express
These are eyes that do not run as the falls
But wet just enough, to become misty