Tag Archives: Monday

The Fog is Afoot

The fog is afoot.

The door is ajar.

The jam is on the highway.

The toast is in the bar.

The world is elemental

Or maybe it’s just gone nuts.

I would lie next to you

But truth be we’d be abut.

You can be in arrears,

But you won’t have more than one.

Things aren’t as they appear,

But a pear ripens in the sun.

I can pucker my lips

If you want to buss,

Or I can look very foolish

As you mount the bus.

You can mount a stead

Or even a campaign

At the end of the day

The results may amount to pain.

There is no anear,

But the stars are afar.

We can be in accord,

But not in a musical bar.

The measure of a man

Maybe of little note.

But notes in a measure

Keep the song afloat.

So is a song a boat

Afloat on a river?

Oar are we lost at sea

Our arrows and us aquiver?

Love is a mystery,

The deepest some have said.

I don’t know, though

It may all soon come to ahead.

You could be apart

Or a part of loving pair

Love is a strange feeling

That the estranged do not share.

So, is the fog afoot?

Is the door ajar?

Is love as near

As a falling star?

If you’re in a jam,

Can you be in a preserve,

Or is that only something

fruit and animals deserve?

Lovers have forever asked

And Philosophers have refrained,

If to be in love is love.

Is to be insane sane?

.

.

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