Marshall Gass


The Fog


The fog rolls in billowing breasts open buttons undone
searching for those little crevices to hide
bringing the chill sensation of a long sad winter
copying the slow warmth of duvets
and dreams woven in magic.

The fog will lift again someday and fly
into wide open spaces of freedom
testing the air for strength
climbing high over despondency
and solitude to a near heavenly spiral
where waits redemption.

Come now
dont let the darkness make you lonely
capture the light from the clouds
and spread the white light symbolism
into all your being until complete.
Let the fog pass.

Submitted: Thursday, July 31, 2014
Edited: Friday, August 01, 2014

Topic of this poem: metaphor


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© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved,11 days ago

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