The mist swirls in front of me

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The Mist Swirls In Front Of Me,
A Plume Of Damp, Soft Haze.
I See Your Face In The Cloud,
Translucent, Blurred –
Your Razored Edges Softened
By The White Light Of Fog.
The Vapors Enfold The Sounds Of The Street
In Their Moist Embrace,
And I Hear You Call Me,
Again And Again.
Above, Below,
Ahead And Behind
You Are Everywhere, It Seems,
And I Am Getting Lost In You.