In a land where the mists do veil,
The world beyond, silent and pale,
Loomed trees, like sentinels tall,
Guarding secrets, both big and small.
A balcony stands, its view obscured,
By the fog’s embrace, its vision lured,
To the faintest glow, a beacon in night,
Piercing the haze, with shimmering light.
Chairs sit empty, a grill stands by,
Witness to memories, under the sky,
A lone guardian, of tales untold,
Of gatherings past, and stories bold.
The quiet, it whispers, tales of yore,
Of laughter, of tears, of love, and more.
