Saw you once when I was in my teens,
the night was falling, birds were calling,
to roost for the night in sweet dreams.

Gators were booming, tree frogs chirping,
doves were cooing their mournful call.
And yet, there was a stillness working,
as the heat turned to mist among it all.

An ethereal landscape of cypress knees,
ghostly, dreamy images hanging in trees.
but one was a maiden about my age,
my lonely young life turned a new page.

As real as the crawdads in my cage,
I watched her undress and take a swim.
Try as I could, I couldn't engage,
paralyzed watching her like a whim.

I wanted to swim with her ever since,
she hasn't appeared all these years,
but been goin' fishin' for her hence,
like some long-lost lover in tears.

All I'm catching is crawdads and grief,
down through the years of yearning.
When the mist comes there is no relief,
I've wasted my life I'm slowly learning.

This evening when the mist arrives,
I will join her in the murky waters of rhyme.
Where I know she hides out and thrives,
I will dive in to catch her one last time.