POEM: Stranger On A Train.

My forehead loses feeling,
Cold glass steals my warmth.
But from this inclination,
I can see his features dance.
In and out of my vision,
As the swaying coaches roll.
The left side of his profile,
Reflected as the whole.

Would his full lips touch,
Hot blood stain to my face?
Secret smile a tender bow,
Ripe with an easy grace.
Sensual fingers folded,
Molding eager flesh.
Warm palm stroking firm,
A velvet-gloved caress.

My rambling mind snaps back,
As I move to watch him stand.
Lament his beauty in retreat,
Of candy-clouded dreams.
His face inspired a longing,
With no words of his to spoil.
To splinter sweet illusion,
My foolishness intact..