A Foggy Morning

In the early hours, beneath the shroud of mist, A lake lies veiled in a melancholic twist, Blue hues mingle with the fog's somber cloak, As the world slumbers, in a mystical yoke.

The waters, a mirror to the heavens' plight, Reflecting the ethereal dance of the night, A solitary vessel glides through the haze, Its silhouette a ghost in this otherworldly maze.

The air, heavy with secrets, hangs low and still, As the mist weaves its tale with an eerie thrill, Trees stand sentinel, their branches a silhouette, In this realm of shadows, where mysteries beget.

In this blue foggy dawn, where dreams entwine, A sense of wonder, a touch of the divine, Where time surrenders to the whims of the mist, And the soul finds solace in the silent tryst.