Page 23 - Contrast1967

gray day

The fog comes down
And oppresses the trees
With dripping mist.
The trees bend their leaves
To escape the thrashing.
But who can escape the fog?
It creeps in where least expected.
It rises from a mouse's hole
And invades the house.
It walks on stealthy feet
Through a lonely city.
But what is worse,
It hides the sun
From the view of the people.
But the tyrant has his day
And soon is gone away,
Defeated by the wind.
Yet, while he remains,
Whereis happiness?

Chris Geis

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