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His name rests tender on my lips through all the long dark hours – fond memories of stolen love my aching heart devours. I feel his breath upon my face, his trace upon my breast – sweet whispers drift across the room where once we soft caressed. Then as he gently slips into the depths where love is born, within a different time and space the fabric’s meetly torn. And moving slowly deep within, bestowing ecstasy – I close my eyes upon the void to feel he's part of me. But reaching out to keep his touch, to grasp it while I may, It’s in the reaching out that touch evaporates away. (His misty image fills my mind, a passing recollection dancing on the edge of time – a shimmering reflection) .