Silent, slipping in unheard,

It wraps all things around,

With cold, gray, damp wisps that conceal

To blind, but make no sound.


Almost eerie as it spreads,

And shuts out any light,

To hold a world in darkness now,

 To fill mans soul with fright.


Causing all who venture forth,

To grope and feel their way,

Until  sunlight can win the fight,

Reclaim a brand new day.


Fog in retreat, then disappears,

Leaves not a trace behind..

So that I wonder if the fog,

Was only in my mind.


©  2003  Loree (Mason) O’Neil


To Send This To A Friend Click The Buttons Below: