Do you see it? There, in the distance just
before the bend? Lie, if you must!
Land ho! Beyond the mist!
Neither can I. Off-balance
and squinting, I look askance
at fog. It’s not there, is it, in the distance?
It’s my fault for always looking aftwards, to
an indelible space which I cannot hew
even if I wanted, too.
Yes. It’s there
in the past, consigned – a tare –
while I aboutface and confront future’s glare.
Posted for Writing 201 (Poetry) day 5 prompt: Fog.
P.S. “…wanted, too.” is on purpose. 🙂
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