Like an unfamiliar lover,

come morning,

 the fog hovers over the lake,

 licking, tasting, caressing.

Fingers of vapor lazily adrift,

lingering in corners,

floating and probing, whispering.

The water lay tranquil

on the edge of sleep,

luxuriating in her touches and kisses.

Daylight crowds in,

her vapors thin and draw back,

shy, timid.

Her touch lightens,

careful not to awaken the sleeping waters,

dark and still.

Sunrise presses in,

warming her touch.

She drifts away.

Please subscribe to keep reading.