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Last Fog at Sunrise by Travers Charron
Last Fog at Sunrise Travers Charron If life stretched on forever,would we still kneel in the wild mintjust to listen to the wind?
It’s the fire burning lowthat draws us near.The song, fadingthat makes us sing.The morning mist liftingthat reveals the deer in the clearing.
Grief is not just absence–it’s the overflowof all we didn’t say,the touch we postponed,a life paused too longon someday.
We are eacha breath on glass,a shadow just beginning to fall.One day,we’ll rise as the last fog at sunrise–already vanishing as the light arrives.
Sof if you love, say so.If something stirs you,listen.
The morning comes quickly.And the fognever stays.
It’s the fire burning lowthat draws us near.The song, fadingthat makes us sing.The morning mist liftingthat reveals the deer in the clearing.
Grief is not just absence–it’s the overflowof all we didn’t say,the touch we postponed,a life paused too longon someday.
We are eacha breath on glass,a shadow just beginning to fall.One day,we’ll rise as the last fog at sunrise–already vanishing as the light arrives.
Sof if you love, say so.If something stirs you,listen.
The morning comes quickly.And the fognever stays.
More from Travers Charron ↓
- @the_inkwellian on Threads
- Scattering Poem Seeds on Substack
- His tanka and haiku collection, Glass Shadows, is available now.
- Currently he is preparing his first full-length poetry collection, Thunderclap Heart, for submission later this year.
Mentioned in this episode:
Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️
🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️
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By Maggie DeversLast Fog at Sunrise Travers Charron If life stretched on forever,would we still kneel in the wild mintjust to listen to the wind?
It’s the fire burning lowthat draws us near.The song, fadingthat makes us sing.The morning mist liftingthat reveals the deer in the clearing.
Grief is not just absence–it’s the overflowof all we didn’t say,the touch we postponed,a life paused too longon someday.
We are eacha breath on glass,a shadow just beginning to fall.One day,we’ll rise as the last fog at sunrise–already vanishing as the light arrives.
Sof if you love, say so.If something stirs you,listen.
The morning comes quickly.And the fognever stays.
It’s the fire burning lowthat draws us near.The song, fadingthat makes us sing.The morning mist liftingthat reveals the deer in the clearing.
Grief is not just absence–it’s the overflowof all we didn’t say,the touch we postponed,a life paused too longon someday.
We are eacha breath on glass,a shadow just beginning to fall.One day,we’ll rise as the last fog at sunrise–already vanishing as the light arrives.
Sof if you love, say so.If something stirs you,listen.
The morning comes quickly.And the fognever stays.
More from Travers Charron ↓
- @the_inkwellian on Threads
- Scattering Poem Seeds on Substack
- His tanka and haiku collection, Glass Shadows, is available now.
- Currently he is preparing his first full-length poetry collection, Thunderclap Heart, for submission later this year.
Mentioned in this episode:
Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️
🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️