Photo by Rhonda Pearson Smith Thickening fog hung beneath the willow tree consumes dreams of your lost poetry. From sandalwood-scented sleep, I kiss you and weep. Love songs will keep, lustrous still. Silver lyrics creep to gold dust dawn from the deep creases of clouded sleep, where I free thickening fog hung beneath the willow tree. Written 7/13/20 Contest - Andaree - 11 Lines Poetry Sponsor - Joseph May