In The Morning Fog
Ghosts linger until dawn,
Loathe to say goodbye;
Desire drifts closer still,
Will fade into day.
Before Apollo rides,
They wander through mist;
Silent moans echo,
Sighs of time long passed.
"Hello?!" I cry out,
"Is it you?" I strain;
There is naught but fog,
Rolling back, again.
© Alys
20 November 2005
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