Morning Mist

The mist hung on the hills like a wet silk cloak
And you and I for want of a walk set out
Along the railroad tracks, step in step, hand in hand
And listened to the crunch of wet gravel and sand
Saying few words for there was understanding,
While in the distance the river meandering
Beckoned us to follow to some sheltered spot
To leave the dreariness that the rain had brought.

And those soft sad eyes made grayer by the sleet
Looked up with wet curls pressed tight against your cheek
Asking questions that I could not answer then,
So, ignorance to their probing I did pretend
And carried on though with a heavier load,
Together thus, in this silent shroud we strode,
And I thought how strange it was that this cold, wet rain
Could not quench the fire in my heart, nor ease its pain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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