Milky mists envelope me,
caresses me in a secret world,
hidden from sharp and clear reality.
Cool drops of moisture thicken the air.
Slicken the ground with possibilities,
promises of quiet, deafening my footfall
as even the singingest cricket
has lost the sound in it's throat,
as the walker who has lost their way.
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London Fog
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Quiet drops of recent rain
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Street lamp bright
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Poetry: Walking in the fog
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