He Is

My ears echo his laughter
In my eyes are etched his face
His aroma fills my senses long after he departs
On my skin his touch still lingers,my whole body still feels his fingers
He is gentle like the snow softly falling in the morning
He is as tender as the flower swaying in the breeze
and his passion floods through me like a raging storm.
His being is captured in my thoughts like a sculpture more magnificent than even Michelangelo could dream to mold.
When I'm in his arms and his heart beats next to mine,could there be any greater tragedy than if he were to let go.