Poetry 146: In the Midst of Beauty

In the Midst of Beauty
by Aidenn A. Spelling

The fog descends
In the nighttime
Creeping gently
Ever so slowly
From stoned paths into lakes
Amidst eerie silence

It flows
Like a gentle breeze
Like water on a calm creek
It begs to be seen
It begs to be touched
With refined tender touch

It rolls and swirls
At times peeking
A sliver veers from its path
Rising above
Only to go back
And return to its journey

The fog never stops
It does not pause
It does not wait
It commands respect
From those who wonder
And revel in its mystery

It glides till dawn
With humility and tenderness
Until the sun’s caress
Lifts it from its place
Dissipating with honor
And subtle grace

THE END

man by foggy lake

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