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A fog surrounds me as I walk,
It moves with each step I take.
The present clear, the future dim,
The past shrouded by its mists.
When crisis ends the path I walk,
The shroud lifts for a moment.
I turn around, the past is clear,
And I see what the mists have hidden.
Misdeeds compel the path I walk,
Each step, a day I’ve lived.
I smile or cringe at each step taken,
And the mists descend again.
Again, the fog surrounds me as I walk,
Accompanying my journey through life.
Concealing steps already taken,
Mists shrouding the path ahead.
________________________
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Butchiesmom
writes that "I believe we walk a path through an invisible fog,
protecting our minds through a crisis, and lifting when it's over to
show us what went wrong. We have a choice of staying on the same
path or choosing another."
"I'm on the slippery slope to 50, a wife, mom and grammy, and love a
challenge. I wrote poetry during my teen years, but haven't written
one until recently." |
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