I felt her presence before I saw her there. <br />A perfumed scent there was about the air <br />As I walked the cobbled stones of a misty street, <br />sensing, in the chill of midnight, her passions heat. <br /> <br />I felt her presence before I saw her there. <br />I heard an echoing through the air <br />And as I stood entranced, alone <br />I heard high heels on cobbled stone. <br /> <br />What does a man do when he sees an earthly angel? <br />He is held in suspension as she passes by— <br />He holds his breath in reverence and wonders why. <br /> <br />What realms above or forces blessed, <br />Have drawn her from the mist: <br />Golden hair flowing softly to her waist, <br />Golden hair framing her angel face <br />Red lips half-parting, ready to be kissed, <br />And eyes of blue shining through the midnight mist. <br /> <br />Is it true that we can be changed forever, <br />That a moment’s vision can leave us never, <br />That a moment can flow to our soul, through some misty corridor <br />And make us not what we were before? <br /> <br />My mind wanders always through every misty street, <br />Hoping once again such a vision to meet. <br />Lady in red, with golden hair and eyes of blue, <br />Every poem I write, is a poem for you.<br /><br />Dennis Lambert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/through-the-mist/
