You.

Do you, as I, sometimes gently drift upon
a sea of fading, half forgotten dreams.
Times past, when the mere snatch
of scent, whispered words, or
tender touch, could so ignite
the senses, that it left me
breathless. Trembling.
with desire for you.

How time passes. Yet,
I would have you know,
even now you have gone.
There linger still...moments
in the quietness of an evening,
when time stands frozen: waiting,
for the gentle touch that so warmed,
and filled me up with joy at your coming.