The fog rolls in ever so quietly
like a blanket being placed over a baby
upon her slumber into a peaceful realm.
The fog that has rolled in ever so quietly
lays like a women waiting for her lover to kiss her gently
and caress her body with only his fingertips.
The fog can be deceiving to ones eyes like a mirage in the dessert
hiding all the beauty for us to see,
playing with our eyes,
only to leave the sight in front of us to our imagination.
Then the fog rolls out like the lover rolling out of bed.
It first moves slowly,
gently peeling the loose sheet
that covered it's surrounding curves and shapes
which formed something beautiful and real.
It takes it's time moving out, without warning,
unfurling like a silk ribbon blowing gently in the wind.
It leaves a trail of dampness where everything
has been touched by it's morning mist.
The fog is the mornings lover to all plants, trees, grass and flowers.
It has quietly laid it's dewy kiss on each leaf, blade and petal
as it moves in and covers each individual item like a mother
who has wrapped her new born baby in a swaddling cloth.
by Barbara Morey ~
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