The Fog

You don’t notice it at first;
It’s just part of the background
‘It’s far from the worst’
A little thicker;
A little closer;
‘It’s nothing’.
You can’t see half a mile ahead;
Alerts are sent out;
‘What’s the point?’
It’s darkened the sky;
No one is out;
A note with a speck of blood on it lies on a stainless steel counter.
The fog lifts;
The landscape is nourished, lush;
People enjoy the azure sky and moist air.
But the other fog never clears.
The sunshine causes a white rose on a coffin to glint like a mournful gem.

Author's Note

Any suggestions welcome!

Reviews

[/]

A brooding and macabre comparison. One fog lifts naturally while the other seeps permanently into the intentional outcome. A gem of a poem.

[Margaret M.]

Thank you!

[CMC]

Well-penned, I like the poem as a whole. It is very descriptive and pleasing to the ear. Thank you for sharing.

[Margaret M.]

Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!