Passenger

Fog on a winters day,

Billowing down from the hills

Like pillars of cigarette smoke. 

The rise of steam from a cows back

Makes me push my hands

Further inside my pockets.

Writhing passions within me

Would often do anything to be free

From this battery farm,

But on a morning like this one,

I cannot begrudge God's efforts.

After all I am no one.

Just a passenger moving from place

To place.

Author's Note

Needs a lot of work but it's a start

Reviews

[R.Ivan]

I think your intention is clear and the images are strong. Work to make each thought as concise and exact as possible and this will be a delightful piece! Well done.