The Fog
Creeping in like a sinister asp
eerie hands of a midnight fog
wrap themselves around a lone gaslight
Eyes that watch through a veil of darkness
...in waiting for the silken swish
of the lady of the night
Who lingers beneath the sallow glow
adjusting her satin garter
and re-touching the rouge on her lips
She gasps as cold fingers grasp
her porcelain neck and wander
where only lovers hands should go
She screams a silent scream
that no one hears
as a distant foghorn drowns
a voice lost in the void of an uncaring night
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