THE FOG
PART TWO
Section 12
Like a soft breeze, someone whispered in my
ear,
“Do not be confused, stranger dear, oh hear,
hear!
Hush, there are love songs
throbbing in the air.
Notes of a melancholic song of a world
unfair.
"She can be seen wandering in the jungle in a
daze
Making her way through the meandering maze.
'When you look at the sky, you’ll remember
me.'
These words of the girl slough through every
tree.
"The sharp stones no longer cut into her bare
feet,
But birds are her friends who chirpily greet
The blue eyed beauty who is so sad and alone
Loitering in the jungle hiding many a moan.
"On her forearm a bruise, on her forehead a
scar,
In her eyes frozen tears, everything is
bizarre.
Haters had brutally killed a love so
sublime.
A story of love had morphed into
a hate crime.
"When one looks at the agitating waters of the
river
One sees a phantasmagoria of figures, all a
quiver,
Faces arrayed in beautiful smiles dancing around
Faces arrayed in beautiful smiles dancing around
With strains of some love-laced music bound.
"Impassively she sits, sun rays careening off
her hair,
Her beautiful face no longer suffused in
lines of care.
There is a beatific expression on her
charming face
She looks at the sky, ah, she is a picture of
grace.
"Then slowly emerges the boy at a very fast
pace,
Looks lovingly at the girl, taking her in an
embrace.
The blue eyed beauty is once more in his arms
Away from leers and a wicked world’s
vile harms."
I looked around for the owner of the voice
But was distracted by some chaos and noise.
The disembodied voice was no longer heard
But instead I could hear the chirp of a
bird.
Iron Mountain Fog -- Randall David Tipton
Randall David Tipton's painting is beautiful.
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