The Fog Rolls In

The Fog Rolls on that New Zealand Coast, with smiles wide, unknowingly.

Her hand in mine, and I miss that most, these moments rewind translucently.

A night like nights, love in the air, our drunken blood and passioned affair.

And as we ferried across the bay, a disagreement grew and grew to stay.

There I snapped and revealed a doubt, an ensnared mind that let it out.

You turned so cold, as an airlock unseals, to an arctic wind in barren fields.

In cold of night our hearts turned to doubt; from that moment you locked me out.

And try I did, to reassure, that our love was good, that it may still be pure.

Suspicion creeps and changes minds, and our hearts bitter, became maligned.

The Fog rolled in, and we did not see, how it would change the days of you and me.

You left that morning, a trip cut short; a lover’s game becomes a game of sport.

For hearts do clash, and emotions war– that which survives, change forevermore.

Our love entwined, yet strained that night, will we ever regain that lover’s delight?