Dancing Spirit by the Stream

It seems I've chased forever now,
the woman by the stream

and waited long for her to show
like waiting for a dream.

When mist and Sun meet at the dawn,
she dances as she nears.

And only then, to catch a glimpse
before she disappears.

An ageless face, a flowing gown,
a sound is never heard.

Without the slightest utterence,
no, not a single word.

So taken by her hair and garb,
as though from centuries past,

perhaps she walked this way the day
that came to be her last.

Alas, I'll keep returning here
to watch this lovely mime

forever, or until she fades,
this vision caught in time.