Muse

[Pramoy]

Your shadow flits through the woods;
Pauses in the pale morning glow.
I can smell you in the mist,
I need to catch up before I forget.

I run, outstretched arm reaching;
You fade with the clearing haze.
With each stride I draw closer
But now you disappear into the dawn.

I stop, rummage through notes, memories.
Try to make you with the words.
But I haven't seen your face yet;
And now I wait like before, and hope.

[Dana]

I like this - which is not something I often say, as you could tell if you read most of my other commentary. : )
But there's something appealing in this poem - and I particularly enjoy that mild twist in the last stanza, when the story of the poem changes with the realization that the face hasn't actually been seen yet...it adds to the sense of the elusive...

[Pramoy]

Thanks a lot for the encouraging words Dana :). The last stanza was a by product of things happening around me at the time I wrote this.

[Jasmine]

Very good poem :)