<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366255" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fog, Yet Another Point Of View</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fog, Yet Another Point Of View</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Near Fisherman’s Wharf, quite late at night<br>Tendrils of music and mist mix together<br>Slim young ladies and slender young men<br>Street musicians, with grand aspirations<br>Dressed a bit tattered, on lonely street corners<br>Used as impromptu stages<br>While fingers of fog probe…searching tentatively…<br>Testing and tasting</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Self-written songs ghost into the night<br>Tremulous voices, hopefully singing<br>Few people stop, even less truly listen<br>Some dropping change in foam cups at their sides<br>All the while fog sniffs like dogs, at ankles and feet<br>Touching, licking, testing and tasting</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too young to truly know of their songs deep emotions<br>Thinking they’ve suffered already most sorrows<br>More mist now…then music, swirling together<br>Grey miasma pulling shroud over sound and<br>The fog slowly thickens, <br>like pudding congealing<br>Rising up, bubbling<br>groping and grasping. Testing and tasting</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some on their corners, in the fog, stay too long<br>Feral fog surrounds them and bodies dissolve<br>Then slowly resolve, as if undecided <br>whether to stay or become haze<br>Fog softens their sad songs, seems to pull them away<br>Absorbing them in it’s tentacles<br>Sucking and pulling, testing and tasting</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grey billows pull capes to their eyes and slink back unwillingly<br>To the bay as the sun slowly rises<br>Slowly, so slowly, as if draggiing resistant, reluctant, victims<br>Wrapped within it’s folds and furls<br>While appearing still to be<br>Groping and fondling, testing and tasting</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fogs final retreat, the last vestiges dissipating<br>Revealing hand-written, hopeful, scattered, sheet music<br>Strewn on a few empty corners<br>A few melancholy musicians less tonight<br>No one will miss them<br>The fog has found them to it’s liking<br> has tested and tasted…and taken</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Whalen">David Whalen</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366255" data-title="Fog, Yet Another Point Of View de David Whalen" data-description="Fog, Yet Another Point Of View Near Fisherman’s Wharf, quite late at night Tendrils of music and mist mix together Slim young ladies and slender young men Street musicians, with grand aspirations Dressed a bit tattered, on lonely street corner..."></div> </div> </div>

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