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http://www.pbunited.com/PBWeb/Poetry/LoverInTheMist.html
Lover In The Mist
Misty morning, so still, so calm, Low clouds rolling in. The air so damp, so moist, reminds me, Of lips so sweet. As yet untouched, not kissed, But yearned for, My Lover in the Mist.
The scent of Pine, rustle of Oak, Brings my senses to bear. Somewhere in the rolling cloud, A love is drawing near. A hint of musk?, no not true, It surely cannot be, My Lover in the Mist.
But yonder, do I catch a glimpse, And hear a sweet laugh. Or was my mind just wandering, Misty morning, so still and calm. Oh, lips so sweet, as yet un-kissed, Her breath upon my face, My Lover in the Mist.
Scent of Pine, rustle of Oak, Low clouds rolling in. Her form appears, in this ghostly quiet, Her smile, my thousand tears. At last we touch, softly embrace, The kisses are warm, so tender. Mist morning so still and calm, My Lover in the Mist.
© Phil Robson 1998
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