Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

Mist

Poem.

What noble curl of sun dappled morning mist,
compares to the lover my heart does miss.
Colored by fertile sun borne rays,
she is the joy in eye's long days.
Her lush form dances in my heart,
and stirs magic fires which do start,
to enliven my mind and inspire my art.

More by Patrick Devine → More poetry → Full issue →
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