(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
Added by Poetry Lover
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