Mist

I used to see you in my dreams.

I would reach out to touch your face,

our eyes would meet,

and your smile would beam.

I could almost touch your cheek.

But then you would whisper,

“Just this,”

and evaporate into mist.

Was it clairvoyance?

Was my brain preparing my heart

for some dreaded day?

Because in all of my dreams,

you would evaporate into mist,

and you would drift away

into a place I could not find, could not see.

I pleaded to the heavens,

“Might we just...?”

I swore to God

that “Just” would be enough.

But alway in my dreams,

the clock would strike midnight,

the Ball would end abruptly,

and our dances were always cut short.

The morning would come,

and you were never in my arms.

I used to see you. But one day,

I reached out to touch your face,

our eyes met,

and your smile did not beam.

I withdrew my hand from your cheek.

In disbelief I whispered,

“Just this?”

Tears blurred you like a mist.

The clock struck midnight,

the Ball ended abruptly,

and our dance was cut short.

Many mornings have come.

You will never be in my arms.

Dreams do come true.

You exist as you did in all of mine...

you are missed.