Fog Poem by Steven B Taylor

Fog



OPUS 101

That’s me that blocks your vision on a night.
And creeps in creepy hollows of your fright.
My hair is gray and weary of your sight,
Yet covers up the blemishes and blight.

I sneak into the corners of the room.
So many know me by my gloom.
Send down the ships and sailors to their doom.
Dull, dank, and nasty-cold of tomb!

Cold reputation, wet with rain, I got.
Sometimes so chill, I cause the blood to clot.
My essence hides the evil and the rot
And makes reality so hard to spot.

Yet often, as the morning sun does blaze,
I come apart and disappear away.
Fade darkness and the shadows into day,
And watch the winter children at their play.

Steven B. Taylor
February 12,1999

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