The fog

Those two days in the evenings
When I come home from work,

I leave the bus stop earlier
To get my evening walk.

It's foggy in my neighbourhood,
The fog is dense and pure.
It's foggy in my neighbourhood,
The buses hardly crawl.

I hug the fog so tightly,
It promises the best.
I love when the fog whispers:
"He's far, but he is there".

I love the fog: it comforts,
I love that it awaits.
You know the fog has its scent:
Your aroma it conveys.