The town lay quiet under a cloud of fog,

Nothing stirred but papers that were blowing by the midnight breeze.

The moon was nearly new and the town lay dark without it’s lights on.

A door opens and a man walks out,

Down some steps, the boards creaking as he walked,

His flat top hat and scarf twirled around his neck, the fog blurring his features.

He walked a ways and looked up at the fading moon.

He seemed to swim through the nighttime fog.

What was it that made him stop,

There was nothing he could see and no where he could go.

Maybe he could go home to his wife and sun,

Maybe he could continue on aimlessly through that thick white fog.

If you could have seen the man up close you would have realized where he was going.

Down to the cemetery he went,

There amassed a large group of people seemingly frozen in time

In the middle lay a coffin and above it a picture of a man.

The picture was recent and in the picture the man wore a flat top hat and a scarf.

As the man walked closer the fog seemed to thicken,

The mob becomes obscure,

He continues to walk,

Past the time stopped people and the graves of marble

Past the last building of town and the tree line of the forest.

The fog got thicker and thicker as he went and as he walked,

Into the trees that mixed with the fog and bark

His hat and his scarf began to fade,

His form became a shadow,

The man walked into

that midnight fog

And then,

He was

Gone.