Fog

The days are getting shorter,
the mornings are dark and cold.
The leaves are falling from the trees,
and a fog covers the fields.

The ground is stiff and the grass is froze,
I can see my breath in the breeze,
and the color of red on your nose.

We laugh as we complain about the chill,
reminiscing about the summer heat.
We huddle close in the nights,
and share our warmth in the sheets.

The fog may be thick,
and the air may be cold,
the trees may be bare,
but I’m so glad I have you to hold.

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