The Mist Lies Still
THE MIST LIES STILL
The morning mist slipped into the park
As easily as a lie told in the dark.
Grey and seemingly harmless,
A little cold, but still and featureless,
Obscuring all the trees, the paths, the lake,
Confusing distance and direction to take,
It hid the truth, it hid the view:
Distorted everything we knew.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
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