The misty fog was in her hair.
He could not find her anywhere.
Could not see through fog and mist.
He remembered her hair and when they kissed.
Her hair was wet as were her lips.
Cool on his face were her fingertips.
He held her close and heard her cry.
He wiped her tears to wipe them dry.
But the tears were mixed up with the damp.
Oh if he'd only had a lamp
He'd have kept it lit so he could see
her hair, her lips and all that he
Loved of her. But when the fog finally cleared
It was clearly evident that what he feared
dealt him a deadly, ghastly blow.
He never knew where she did go.
Now whenever the fog rolls in
he searches again just where she'd been.
But all he finds is fog and mist.
He'll never forget how they had kissed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem