The fog slips in and hugs the ground
The air is still there’s ne’er a sound
I feel the damp inside my bones
My feet can’t grasp the slipp’ry stones.
I sense the chill invade my space
Oh how I need escape this place,
Before my mind grows dim and old
And all I’ve known wanes dread and cold !
To Edward Pavlovich, an old friend who painted
my portrait in 1951, I remember you ! Thanks !