I walk down the street
With a purse slung on my shoulder
A book in one arm
And a binder in the other

I keep my head down
Whenever someone passes
Rushing to work
Hurrying to be faster

But then something drops
And I reach down to pick it up
My binder’s all soaked
The water ruined all of my stuff

I groan in frustration
No matter what, I’m late
Well if that’s the case
I might as well slow my pace.

I start to look around
Notice all of the world
Is covered in white
A mysterious blanket of fog

It hides the end of the street
Hidden all from my view
Makes the world a dream
Or makes it something new

My imagination gets to me
As early in the morn
I start a poem inside my head
And scramble to write it down

I watch a bird disappear
Into the quiet, heavy air
Lost from my entire view
Like it was never there

I look up with my eyes
Following the building
But the top isn’t found
The effect is slightly chilling

You don’t know what is anywhere
Around every nook and cranny
When you sight is limited
Your world seems uncanny

The misty air clouds your vision
Disorting your existence
Leaving it’s heavy, humid breath
All over; in water’s condition

Fog seeps slowly towards you
And you decide to join the scare
But when you’ve finally reached it
It isn’t really there

No matter how far you ever walk
Or how close you seem to get
You never can reach the fog
Because you’re already in it

The chills run along your spine
It seems like the world’s at rest
But something seems amiss to you
Like a nightmare’s foggy breath.