Foggy Tale

The cold morning breeze,
And the quiver in my voice,
Wanted you to lend a warm curdle.
Before you could offer one,
I was but dragged away,
By the blind folding fog,
From all those trails,
That leaded to you.

Later, when the breeze,
Whispered your name in my ears,
I was standing alone,
With a fear hitherto unknown.
Soon I started listening,
To each of the voices,
Of those natural powers,
That revealed the short cuts to your smile.
And… All smiles!