NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 6

06 April 2018, Category: poetry



Fog

The white cliffs had no end,
edges eaten by cloud,
an invisible sea below.

I think it was New Year

We inched along the path,
lost amongst the static,
all context erased.

I know as we turned back
it grew thick around us,
Speech swallowed into silence.

I think it was two years ago.
Details have become indistinct,
blurred by the inevitable fog.