The mist above the river sits and waits
As I must do, since you have gone away;
I know the lonely mornings very well,
The empty space before the start of day

The birds may sing, but do not sing for me;
The sun’s first rays obscured, and out of phase –
The warmth cannot get through as it once did,
For all around the surface lies a haze

Of some uncertainty about our fate;
The mist that fell, that makes the early
Late