In the moon’s soft glow where shadows whisper low,
She weaves dreams of Yarmia, a phantom in her soul’s flow.
"Your touch is a phantom, a ghost in my night,"
She confides to the stars, her yearning taking flight.

Her eyes, like mirrors, reflect an unseen plea,
"Your essence, a mystery, a vast, deep sea,"
She imagines my presence in every fleeting breeze,
Longing for a closeness that never comes with ease.

"Every breath you take, a melody I chase,"
She murmurs in the silence, her heart a fervent race,
Her dreams are filled with visions of me, she's entangled in a trance,
Yet in the waking world, she never gets a chance.
She says,
"To touch you, to hold you, is a fantasy grand,"
She writes with a passion that she can’t withstand,
Her...