Softest haze mantles the night amid twilights first born hours.
Dew all drenching, encroach, caress the springs first waking flowers.
Mists so gently kiss the foliage of a garden fair, as one comes hither
purest rose adorns her silken hair.
Shift of satin, unkempt curls, she steps with even grace.
Eyes of lonely, haunting beauty, beset by youthful face.
Tranquility abounds around her in vividly elusive dreams.
When awoken, shattered then.... as nothings what it seems.
Copyright © Jesse Zerlaut | Year Posted 2016