Fog

Poem By William King

Rancid, rotting, raving, eyeless, soulless in the night
Creeping, crawling, crazing, crashing, midnight calls the flight
Untold as yet, unknown to me, unfelt for warmth inside
But now it’s running, rolling closer, gliding as a tide
Unstaunched it’s moving closer now, smothers all in sight
Dripping, dark, dim dismal, draining, death to earthly light
But mornings coming closer now, it’s almost here at hand
Banishing the mist, it goes, the fog has left the land.

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