The fog was thick that morning
The forest wept in silence

We walked towards the kitchens
The smell of food struck the air

Footsteps marched ******* the stairs
Echoing down the green mountain

The metal tables were set
At the end of the hall, ghosts

Pouring the meals on chrome trays
Hungrily we hurried, lined

Each receiving their own
Then we sat, ate, on metal

Not one word was spoken, quiet
It was cold, not one complain

Food finished, the ghosts came back
Carrying off the gleaming plates

It was only us, alone
Once again, we stood and left

Through the doors, down the stone steps
The forest fog swallowed us