Traces

He had strong, sun burnt forearms
they inspired a desire to be held
even if it is to white out the world.
Had long, slender and sensitive fingers
they seemed to have a gentle touch
tracing down the curves of an arm.
His voice echoed husky under tones
whispered utterly sexy, charming words
scattered reason to winds over dreamland.
His fleeting glances, Oh, damn those eyes!
they dug deep into a soul and left a scar
they made many unspoken promises.
And when he laughed; a genuine laugh
one heard a delightful, childish giggle.
His hair and his hands passing through them ..
I wonder if they are what I shall miss the most?
Now here in the small hours of dawn, wide awake
I wonder if he really existed or if I created him?
Perhaps, he belonged to a far away universe
and I happen to catch the traces in my imagination.
I am slowly starting to remember the tale ..
I think it was a sketch, which I never finished.
Funny, why did I think I could capture the impossible?
A dream is a dream but a dream and shall forever be!