Like cold and dark before her
Fog is a feeling
Clawing for light
Images
Distorted
Paths
Unclear
Trapped by
words voice memory
bodies touch fingertip
joy loss
here gone
Fog is a feeling that won’t
Let me go
photo by Barbara Paulsen at tandemechoes.com
The Exceptional Everyday 
Every line impresses the reader with an ephemeral sensation of emotional diaspora. Lovely.
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Thank you. I like to write about fog.
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Ooooooo! I felt this one! Cold, eerie, lonely. Lovely
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I love the title and the sentiment. The solitude, the ultimate sadness that encompasses our journey, the exquisite joy we glimpse along the way. For me, fog is a weight, a heavy pressing down, a gasp for air, a wish to survive, to lift that dense blanket of condensation, of condemnation. I see a lot of fog in my city and I can tell you, it’s my least favorite weather pattern. It separates us from our reality even more tragically than the night.
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It does, doesn’t it? I can’t find anything “fun” to write about fog. It just feels like weather entrapment. Careful, or I might publish your comment as a poem in and of itself!
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I don’t like the fog at all….I like to see where I am going…scary and eerie for sure
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