Saturday, 2 March 2013

Fog in the Vale of York

A misery of teenage proportions,
deceptive and causing strange distortions,
showing the trees but hiding the railings,
shifting the focus onto ones failings,
wrapping the promise of spring in a shroud,
making the internal voice curse out loud,
growing in density, never lifting,
coldly, gloomily swirling and drifting,
an almost too obvious metaphor,
attention seeking and hard to ignore,
mist made emptiness like La Folia,
meteorological melancholia.

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