Fog, Elegy, Metaphor ~ Of Mornings Past


In answer to the Writing 201 Prompt Fog
Form: Elegy
Device: Metaphor



I remember the sunrise over the mountain
And wonder if I’ll ever see one again.

You used to wake me by moonlight
So we’d share the morning bright.

I recall the light over the lake tempered
By the clouds and mist that lingered.

The morning fog would caress the mountain sides
A groom’s fingers gently holding his bride’s.

The sun, veiled bride shrouded by the icy mist
Of the lake, come ready to be kissed.

Soft and shy, the light suffusing the clouds
Became bright and tore the shrouds.

You would make photos then, snapping away
As red and gold erased the morning grey.

Now you’re gone beyond the sun and I’m alone again
Never wanting to see another mountain.




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