One foggy day, one foggy night,
no sun, nor moon to give us light.
An opaque mist steals over all,
not see-through, just an eerie sprawl
of candy floss. Such tones of white,
lingering like a odious blight.
One foggy dawn, one foggy chill,
there is no warmth, temperature nil.
It’s closing in, and firmly wrapped,
no sign of lift, one’s feeling trapped
here in our world. Sits, silent, still,
trespassing of its own free will.
One foggy land, one foggy scene,
no view to see where one has been.
Nothing in front, nothing behind,
just a place where one is confined,
surrounded by one vast smokescreen,
clear small oasis in between.
© Ernestine Northover
This one takes the reader into the heart and soul of an English winter. The writing is stylish and elegant and the desolate mood is captured with great power. An excellent poem. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This sounds like the result of one of your walks across the fields eitherway it is very well written and reminds me of the time at stood at chessel beach and looked into the grey mist across the water, it seemed very barron Great writting again Ernestine Love duncan X
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have created a great picture here Ernestine, your descriptions are so precise that I felt I was there. Happy new year, love, Andrew xx