The fog is soaking
up the dull, damp sky
as she twists and turns
in leafless lane,
then seeps with gold
as her mind unfolds
to quiet Novembers
slackened day.
A dampened face
and dampened hand
feel gentle in the golden mist,
a moistened lace
in soft, sweet grace,
the touch
of a natural kiss.
Sally Plumb
Nothing like a kiss of nature........a good pictoral write..........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fog wheeling my psychic reel … to touch horizon thro’ mist …zero visibility but with vibe … enjoyed smoochsouse …, Ms. Nivedita UK PS 10