Lane of Fog

Settling downward, the road’s early haze

Unable to see height of trees as I gaze

The world now shadowy, and dim, and shy

Seamless grey stretches across the chilled sky.


A lone truck waits ahead of a home

For quite some time, it has yearned to roam

But, abandoned, it has remained lost

With auburn paint flaking under scintillating frost


One future dawn, the truck just may

Ride down the street to its alluring conclusion

Like me, once I prepare to embark, begin,

But not today, this frigid day.

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