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Fog

Posted July 15, 2000 00:00 | Category: Poetry Drafts | #

Drifting in the fog--
Days, weeks, months,
Surrounded by silent grey.
When at last the fog lifts,
The current has carried me
Far from my safe harbor
Where life goes on--
Fishing boats disgorge
Into waiting trucks,
Sea gulls swoop and squawk,
Day sailors set
Out to ride the breeze,
As I am
Blown
Slowly, steadily, helplessly
Onto the rocks.

Jul 15 2000
William R Ward

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Last updated: 09/19/2007 William R. Ward, bill@wards.net