A thick mist creeps over greys and reds
Buildings soulless and dead
No life or imagination exists
As it creeps, this ethereal mist
Lights swallowed up as it moves
But not all, there are just a few
These floating orbs glow in the dark
Like ghostly visitors from the past
The mist creeps over our mystical land
Its tendrils creeping, close at hand
Reaching, stretching, hungry for all
As it salivates, ravenous for more
Cars disappear into the night
Swallowed whole, no more lights
Whilst a jogger pounds into the mist
He too has disappeared
The December mist moves on
This night will successful be long
As it eats its way through the night
Birds and other animals take fright
Posted in: Poetry
Posted on Dec 11, 2012
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