The fog just crept in: rolling on the ground, little by little rising to fill the air. So thick it is now. I can see nothing, but white fog swirling around me. The fog breaks, the veil opens ... just for a second. Who is that face? Have I seen it before? But the fog veils it soon, very soon, Swirl and swirl of shining fog. That's all. There's the face again. No it's gone. The fog so thick now. the veil so heavy. It's a death mask against me. I'm falling -- not downward, not upward, just along the way. At last I'm through the foggy veil ... the mask is gone, the fog rolls far away ... There's mom and dad, brother and sister, old friends, and my belovéd On the green turf shaded under the eyes of green leaves.
©2010, John A. Mills