Softly and quietly it drifts through my thoughts
White and misty, like a ghost in a dream
Thinning and reshaping silently and peacefully
Shimmering light and glistening wet with dewOr is it just my imagination, but no
I am sure it was there and now it is gone
Where had it come from and where did it go
Will it ever come back for me to see again
Precious it must be, yet fleeting and lost
Can it ever be captured and held in place
Or would it continue to drift, fluid and allusive
Ever there, yet never there, and always desired
As I stop to think and ponder this puzzle
I ask the questions and search in vain
What is it that I saw or imagined so dreamlike
Finally the answer; youth is my misty dream
