(For a) Mis-nomer

She wafted in
Like a sea-breeze,
And made me feel
A little less than impossible
(To be with) .
Like a summers misty morning.
Too gentle
For any malice or forethought.
A time of easy beginnings,
Charmed losses.
Yet barely-heard sighs.

poem by Peter Vealey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!