evening

Cold evening November
Moist fog swirling
It spreads inside

Some depth, some breadth
and the past comes back
whispering or howling

Fragments, scars, hurts, time past
Faces, bangs, smiles, cries
Episodes, cracks, leftovers
Of lives that roared and passed,
Gone, maybe for ever, tomorrow will tell

Now it is weightiness and dampness
A breath in the thickening fog
The beast is still alive but asleep