Shrouded in Fog

This rocky land
This forlorn place
This world in
Shrouded grey

Beyond the straight
A farther shore
Receding
In the mist

There trees and rivers
Have I spied
And voices
Have I heard

Singing songs
In merry tones
Round bonfires in
The night

Could I but swim
Or had a boat
I’d make my way
Across

And try my voice
At sing-a-long
A member of
The crowd

But here I stand
Along the edge
Keeping me
From that

Jingling in
My pocket
Enough to ride
The ferry