anythinggoes

A poem about fog.. not much else to say about this one.

The sleepy dazed world of the fog casts a spell on all of us. Some may feebly fumble for the footstool to get down, others may unfurl forest-green sheets and still perhaps others feel the creak of the fog in their joints and go back to sleep.  The fog makes us feel dreary, drowsy, feebly fumbly, and casts many other spells.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS