In The Fog

The grey of the fog turning on the water like a sprite dancing

Stretching out its tendrils like a beast reaching

In the whirl a form slowly comes and goes

Mushrooms? Maybe a stick, oh wait are thoseā€¦. Toes?

A foot bare except for the caked on mud that clings

The fog thins and slowly reveals more of the scene

Calf so pale in the dim light, or maybe not

The litter of leaves cover the insidious spot

Pushing the litter back a form starts to appear

Eyes hollow, glazed, filled with a final fear

Tattered dress offers no cover in this final place

Bruises and blood cover the once angelic face

Marks of a struggle mar the ashen flesh all over

Was it a villain, a predator, or a jilted lover?

Truth is that this was no accident that happened

Her body the object of something partially planned

A locket still attached around the bruised throat

Only the faint smell of death, the body yet to bloat

The snap of a twig, dark sunken eyes now in view

A tip of the hat, the predator comes into view

The cloak pulled tight to not reveal the true form

Still in all it was old tattered and well worn

Looking on as if gazing at a lover sleeping in bed

So many questions fill my spinning head

A large sack he now takes out of his black bag

Leaning down he caresses the ever still head

Hands push away the debris laying all about

Tenderly picking up the form and kissing its mouth

With care he puts the prize in the bag and lifts

Turning again towards me and with another hat tip

The fog rolls in and swallows the scene

Was it real or was it just a dark dream?

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