Frost

How is something not lost,  
Yet wanders and refuses to be found?  
Dreary mists adorn steely frost,  
Leaving a memory of the sun

A sea of long coats and tilted hats,  
Gently walking through winter’s haze,  
Their footsteps silent on cobblestone paths,  
As daylight fades to twilight's gaze

The cold breath of the evening air,  
Whispers secrets to the night,  
Where shadows dance without a care,  
In the dim, flickering streetlight

What once was clear now fades away,  
In the mist where all is gray,  
And though it wanders, never lost,  
It lingers where the past is tossed

For in the fog, both near and far,  
The echoes of what once we knew,  
Float like phantoms, pale as stars,  
In a world where time is skewed

How is something not lost,  
Yet wanders through this veiled surround?  
It lingers on in shadows crossed,  
In memories where it was never found