We all called her Misty
because she was ethereal.
Always a listener never a talker.
People wondered
what he saw in her.
She had no personality
they said.
I noticed he always treated her
like one of  his belongings
not as a woman.
He was a bully.
I heard him yelling at her often.
She seemed to fade
even further into her mist
that followed her.
He told her where they could go.
And when they could leave.
Then one day she built up the courage
to send him packing.
No one was was more
delighted for her than me.
I saw her a couple of years later.
She told me she had traveled
to many of the countries
she had only seen in brochures.
Had adventures in some places
which were not even
in the travel guides.
Places she had no idea
she would ever visit.
Well, not on her own anyway.