He walks with a personal cloud
dulling his world, blurring his perceptions.
Walling him in, between tendrils of fog
freezing him in place to avoid falling off the precipice.
Her arms are open with devotion and she calls to him,
but her voice bounces off rocks and mist.
Their mutual affections miss each other
in the haze, but both are sincere and will still be there
when the fog lifts
(or he goes over the cliff).
Shawn L. Bird 