White Fog Poem by James McLain

Rolling in white fog,
In waves of white, the moving mist.
Shrouded in the early morning dawn.
Beneath your feet none living,
That once I've loved in death I've claimed
To know.

They beat the bushes and green leaves,
Not brown
That past a certain age have dropped upon
The ground.
Fallen trees, have blocked the path where
At night we used to meet.

Unchanging is the sea the sky at night,
Is filled with stars.
To raise my hand beneath the moon,
To fill my open palms.
And taste the freedom, scent and smell,
Of she whom living gave me life.