Fog

Mist blurs the outlines

Of the people on the beach

And suddenly the figures

Are diminished into faded photographs

Beach umbrellas, colors running

Are tilted in the swirl of fog

Above now invisible sand dunes

The sounds of the sea

Crashing waves and breakers

Are muffled, like a child giggling

With both hands clapped over his mouth

Gulls cry, impossibly distant

And conversations flow up from the beach

Reminding me on the nonsensical syllables

Of air rushing through unbled pipes

Foreign tongues I can almost understand

I squint my eyes and search for you

Among sepia-toned, out-of-focus crowds

But, like them, you have faded away

Into a misty photo of days past