Fog

The world seems faded, smudged somehow
The clouds on the skyline have been forced onto the page
In charcoal and ash from an amateur hand
Maybe I just can’t see it through the rain

The thud on the conservatory roof
The hum of the heavens pouring down
great torrents escape the gutter
and meander to unknown corners
beneath twig bridges
between stone
gone

I can’t feel it all.

It all seems too distant.
The wind feels a theory
the hail just a threat
The moon an illusion
All of it’s here
Maybe it’s me
that’s not

Entwined with the patter comes the thud of feet

I turn. -It’s him
Flowers in hand
Hopeful smile in place
I won’t take him back
Selfish. Horrid. Git
I tell him so
My face contorted in rage
He didn’t think me pretty when he chose her
Why should I try to impress him now?
I spit at him
Tell him to leave
and turn back to the window
      Where my tear drops mirror the dark skies
      Where here there is no deceit, no lies

It feels like I’ve been crying for years

And a son
Mistaken for a father
By a mother’s fading mind
Is left to wonder
Why the world was not more kind.