Slow MotionMist, not fog, distorts
the light, muzzles sounds,
warps shapes to forms
from fairy tales, silhouettes
that waver in the dim, damp
air, cold as ghosts that haunt
our dreams. Mist rolls in, blurs
thought, hikes fears, contorts
water into an insubstantial
mirror, pale, not quite blue,
shrouded and dead flat.


Daily prompt: Fog

Image: Eric W├╝stenhagen on Flickr


Categories: Poetry

Tagged as: , , ,

2 replies »

Something to say?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s