Brummieboy's Fotothing

Miasma

The morning rays were rising
And opening up the day
When as swiftly as they came
They suddenly lost their way
A creeping white miasma
Enveloped all their power
As all across the river
The morning now turned sour
The eerie silence cloaked
The morning's lovely mask
And made the sun's bright start
An even harder task
This cold and chilling scene
Was wondrous to behold
As morning turned to mist
And warmth became so cold

Phil Sanders
13/09/07