Once, Then

I remember her,
And though always there,
It is the moments
Between a dream
And the day
When my hands
Are tracing shapes
In the air,
Stroking her body,
A form
Carved of nothing,
Fingertips
Tingling
In a simple response
Of where her legs lay,
To the beat
Of her heart,
To the gentle
Smooth
Desire,
To caress
A beauty
Lost to a memory