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Silently it creeps in,
blurring the crisp outlines
of trees
of flowers
of houses
of lives.

Damp, oh so damp,
that it chills
the souls
of those
who look out,
trying to
see through
the veil.

The fog,
a symbol,
for the way
each live
their lives.
Each attempting
to peer through it,
if it will
ever go away.

Some find comfort
in the fog,
as it veils
ugliness from view.

Others shiver,
feeling the gloom,
and pray
for sunlight,
a bright, clear day.

There are also others
who use the fog,
that whispery veil,
covering agendas,
so that many
cannot see.

Their fantasy
upon disorder,
and confusion.
Their covert,
spiteful reality
keeping others
from being free.

That gray mist
will dissolve
a new star
shall come,
bursting so bright
dispelling the darkness
of that dim light.

Take heart
all those
filled with despair,
another, brighter day
will come
to us here.



Kay Ekwall Dec. 27, 2020

Index of Poems, Songs and Short Stories

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Web Design and poetry copyright by Kay E. Ekwall 2009, use only by permission by request