Foggy Fracas
The door swung softly open,
And, swirling soundlessly,
Many misty visitors
Soon encircled me.
My silent guests seemed sullen,
Swathed in dripping gowns;
They fixed their watery eyes on me
And frowned their dripping frowns.
I felt a sudden tremor
And saw, as in a trance,
The faded, foggy phantoms
Begin a ghostly dance.
Then, slowly they all beckoned
With faint and hazy hands,
Inviting me to follow them
To shrouded, clouded lands.
I would not join their number
So they drifted out the door.
The only signs they left behind
Were puddles on the floors.
–Blanche Day Manos
Speak Your Mind