He Who Was Fog

Through the hills he walks
With fear of touching the sky
Never wanting to fly again
Escaping his way to die

He runs faster than the wind
And ducks throughout the mountains
For to the canyon he does sound
Spilling like a fountain

The heat beats down
On the illustrious cloud
But for no scream
His pain is loud

He, now half gone
Tackles the ocean
He knows he has won
Fading he will shun

But alas it is time
To go back to sea’s wet
Now a rainbow he shines
And gone into a sunset
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Sweetheart Avatar
March 2, 2010 at 6:29 PM
A cool write Justin.. enjoyed your take on the fog ... a nice setting too..luv.. Linda-Marie "Sweetheart" of Poetry Soup..
Nutter Avatar
March 2, 2010 at 6:25 PM
A very imaginative and descriptive of this moisture we call fog. Well done.
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