Through the Mist
Through the mist, I wander, searching.
An unending coldness surrounds me.
No matter what I do or where I turn
I cannot get warm.
The chills are petrifying—
Am I being overtaken by Death?
I feel something there, what is it?
Is it you?
Dare I reach out to touch this unknown–
But I must, for if it is you,
My search is over.
I reach out,
Afraid of what my touch might find.
The sun breaks, the mist clears,
And it is you,
©1997-2016 Suzanne G. McClendon