Foggy Corner Covered

who are we that meet -
on small corners covered in fog and trees?

small corner,
i have found me here
often
surrounded in thick fog,
protected well by light reflecting
glass into patterns
complicated by the matters
lost in warbled hands
made calm only by the renditions
you prescribed
before
and after
we danced under your window
hoping strange good might -

of paint and walls and floors,
what architect decided walls
built into small perimeters
could satisfy one like me,
on foggy days
when the sad escapes of
our time
together, leaves me
stepping over beetles
struggling to find

their way.

who decided eternal greens
and plastered stones could
satisfy
more the view
of withered trees
and common hands
wandering about like
beetles,

struggling to find their
way in the fog
melting harshly
on the way .