Fingers

Your fingertips, they said it all, there was no need for my words. 
At first I though some strangers were floating in the air and it took me ages to realize that they were solely ‘looks’ having gained a purpose beyond our conscious. 
Still your fingertips were touching them, caressing them gently and delightfully playing with them. Looks from my eyes and from yours, hovering in the space left between us; in a space we left wide open as our hands separated, as the everlasting moment gained distance; the moment when I knew you were and you knew that I stood there watching you. 
You left fingerprints all over the magic surrounding the moment and the magic that anxiously held on to our hands; you left fingerprints on the looks in our eyes, for I was still far too scared to dare any direct contact. Such a fool I was back then not to recognize your fingerprints already all over my eyes!