[Impressions]

[Leah S.]

[Impressions]

I

A melody implied
by the rustling of leaves:
the hem of your dress
sweeps across the forest floor.

II

No, we'll walk with the mist
at our backs. I don't trust you
not to disappear.

III

In that cool, pulsating darkness,
every random passerby
bears your face.
But your eyes are yours alone.

Don't think I don't agree with the previous critiques. However, I like the II stanza, if only because I got a vivid image of a lurking mist into which the mysterious and untrustworthy person you walk beside might silently escape. I can't decide whether to recommend that you junk the whole thing, or build a different poem around the mist and your reluctant companion. Your choice. Carry on. Leah.