Santosh Bakaya writes

THE FOG

PART TWO

Section 16

I opened my eyes and looked around saucer-eyed, 

Could see no sign of the bridegroom or the bride,

Not even remains of last night’s sumptuous feast. 

From deep in the forest, came the roar of a beast.

Somewhere a bird sang in anticipation of dawn

But the dawn was still hours away from being born. 

Hey, what was that? An owl, with a wicked gleam?

Or merely the unfurling of a scary, surreal dream?

In the blink of an eye the desolate boy was gone.

The wind swept wrathfully, malicious its drone. 

In the surroundings there was an air of sad defeat. 

The forest appeared with noxious fumes replete.

The trees swayed a warning, and again the echo 

Resounded and started to grow to a crescendo.

"Have you seen the emerald eyed beauty, oh hear!

I am looking for her, oh, is that she coming near?" 

In the forest the sad echo of his voice ricocheted.

Blood curdling screams rent the air, as the sky greyed.

Everything appeared eerie in the semi lurid gloom

As the branches of the spectral trees went boom, boom.

Was the desolate boy only a fevered mind’s creation? 

A frenzied dream, a figment of my imagination?

Just a spark of madness, in the embers of the night? 

An owl hooted, a bat took a sudden and frantic flight. 

 

 Fog Over Newcastle -- Dion Archbald