THE WITCHES MIST

Few had made his heart sing,
but she was a choir of angels,
that fond face, that peered through the mist,
capturing his heart.

But mist is a subtle thing,
weaving, and floating, settling , and lifting,
and she was all these things to him,
wrapping him in her misty heart.

But alas, her gentle mist suddenly drifted,
slowly releasing him, from her damp embrace,
and floated off ghost-like to haunt elsewhere,
leaving him wretched with despair, for her mist.