The Mist

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Swirling shroud

A watery veil

Like tired eyes;

A crazed wail

Cracks through the cloud

Of foggy fear

The eyes alive

As shapes appear

Looming, lunging

Awkwardly

Towards a shuddering

Effigy

Of something that used

To be alive

Now lost in the mist

Struggling to survive

Tear off the shroud

Sunlight fries

The frazzling fog

The watery lies

Wail no more

A calm descends

Mist dissipates;

The shuddering ends.