Fog

Mist blurs the outlines
Of the people on the beach
And suddenly the figures
Are diminished to faded photographs
Beach umbrellas, colors running,
Are tilted in the swirl of fog
Above now invisible sand dunes
The sounds of the sea
Crashing waves and breakers
Are muffled, like a child giggling
With both hands clapped over his mouth
Gulls cry, impossibly distant
And conversations float up from the beach
Reminding me of the nonsensical syllables
Of air rushing through unbled pipes
Foreign tongues I can almost understand
I squint my eyes and search for you
Among sepia-toned, out-of-focus crowds
But like them, you have faded away
Into a misty photo of days past