The morning commute is shrouded in fog
There’s a chill in the air as I take off my bog
The headlights reflect off the mist that is white
Making navigation tricky and sometimes a fright
The streetlights are but beacons of hope
I hope other drivers are not high on dope
The bus stop yet offers the shelter of trees
Where a few souls gather from the cold and the breeze
I muster the courage and take my first step
Away from the fog, my car slowly crept
The headlight guides me, its a haze of light
Through it all I gain hope and look toward the night
The fog is thick but I know where I’m going
And I can make it through this dull weekday morning
It’s a hard journey but I know I can do it
Turning into my works driveway, I knew I’d get through it.