In the Fog

Varvara Stylidou

Varvara Stylidou

I sailed away

In a fog last night

Each furlong a fathom

Deeper in misery’s drum

Someone else ate the stew

I’d made during the day

Someone else the roll

I baked for dinner

I sailed away 


I awoke again

At around midnight

Wondering who I was

And for that matter where

Some yellow dog at my feet

Snoring worse than a sailor

My throat drier than dust

With a belly all agrowl

I awoke again


In the larder

Lay a smoked fish

The roll I’d not eaten

Cheese white as sheep milk

And on the counter red wine

Dark as a Bohemian’s blood

My God! It was a feast

For one long lost

In the fog


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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4 Responses to In the Fog

  1. Morgan says:

    Thank You for Sharing your Wonderful Inspirations that touch my life each day :) Happy Friday and Have a Fantastic Week End~


  2. redgladiola says:

    I really like this poem and the simple joy of re-discovering a good meal. =)


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