The Foggy Day
On cold, foggy days, my mind opens wide.
The window blinds open and I stare at the sky.
Rain hits the wet ground in the face of the cold.
Books sit at my feet in good stories untold.
A mug of hot chocolate rests by my bed.
Memories of my childhood drift through my head.
I take in the view, or what's left I can see.
The air is so foggy; you can tell where I breathe
On the window glass where my cloudy breath lies,
As I spend my day reading and watching the skies.
Emily Whelchel
February 27, 2008
On cold, foggy days, my mind opens wide.
The window blinds open and I stare at the sky.
Rain hits the wet ground in the face of the cold.
Books sit at my feet in good stories untold.
A mug of hot chocolate rests by my bed.
Memories of my childhood drift through my head.
I take in the view, or what's left I can see.
The air is so foggy; you can tell where I breathe
On the window glass where my cloudy breath lies,
As I spend my day reading and watching the skies.
Emily Whelchel
February 27, 2008
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