Poem: Fog Again

pier 2

Fog again. 

Early in the morning,
coming in off the ocean,
your vision limited,
closed in,
the grey lives like a poison.

Your own light flickers.
You know
you need the sun,
a light larger than your own

to see again.

About this poem. 

I lean a lot on my faith. Call me partially blind.

It could be about fog too.

Tom

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