The house beyond the fog.
In this strange ambience.
I'm glad I snuck into this dream.
Even for just one hour.

I can't tell if its evening or early hour.
Perhaps a fall early evening or just a cool spring morning.
Crisp was the air as if lonely ghost had their arms around me.
Guiding me toward the house beyond the fog.

The grey wood porch had sleeping shadows.
Dormant umbra dreams of light that cast them.
In the candlelight they loved to dance.
Sleeping sentinels welcome me in.  

I open the green door in.
The sun now riding high revealed it to be morning behind me.
My grandmother who had been dead for 32 years made me breakfast.  
Was this her home in heaven?