The far shore disappears
As a mist begins to fall,
Creeping across rippled water
Like a mysterious Arthurian island.
I lift my face
To receive the soft, grey kiss,
My eyelashes wet,
As if I wept softly.
My footsteps echo quietly
Like little cat paws across the porch at night
While all the world lies safely asleep.
My hair, lying in wet tendrils,
Lifts like two dark wings
As the wind rises off the lake
And the rain begins to fall.
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