Fog

Seeing as how it has been cloudy and threatening to rain all day, and now is raining, it seems like the apppropriate time to post a poem that I wrote a year or so ago.  Sitting here looking out the window of my tiny apartment, watching the rain fall and watching Dirty Dancing, and drooling over Patrick Swayze's very attractive 1987 body seems like the perfect way to end a hectic week.  The smell of the rain is wafting through my apartment, freshening things up and making things smell so clean - it is one of my most favorite scents in the world.


With that being said, here is my poem:

Fog

The fog comes down over the mountain.

Creeping...crawling.

It's tendrils twist down,

Ever downward.

The white mist seeps slowly down through the trees,

Sneaking upon the quiet, unsuspecting village below.

Closer and closer it comes,

Muffling sounds and giving the air a dull quality.

Blanketing the green hillside as it floats,

Closer the cool vapor comes.

The air grows chill.

The clouds above build and swell.

And suddenly,

The fog is upon us!

The clouds burst forth,

Spilling their precious, life-giving nectar!

The rain falls,

Pattering softly on the pave-stones and window-panes.

The only observer to this silent phenomenon?

A broken, lost soul,

Lonely and forlorn,

Mistaken, betrayed and used.

Me.