the fog of phantom memory

the fog rose
from the fields
along the sides
of the two lane road
billowing across the
dark of a sleepy dawn
the whorls of white
played on the chill
ever present wind
beckoning gently
a ghost tide of
glacial patience
covering scars made
millenia before

racing the rising sun
down the highway
far from the touch
of the frozen waves
phantom sea remnants
luring random travelers
into the jagged reef
skeletal longing
taunting reflections
closer than they
may appear in the haze
of a dirt streaked
rear view mirror

i hear the cry of gulls
though the skies are clear
rickety timbers crack
from the masts lost
in a forest of mist
a hastily cobbled compass
spinning lazily in place
leading farther from the
coppery scent of hope

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