Fog
The road disappears into the fog,
a familiar path gone strange,
suddenly mysterious,
less a friend than something to be leery of,
too much like life,
an ebb and flow from certainty to blindness
without moving.
About this poem.
Am I the only one that feels this way sometimes?
Tom
Nope, you aren’t
Been there, in more ways than this… Keep your eyes down and your focus loose, this too shall pass.