There is an art:
which each of us create
anew with each encounter,
whatever day.
…safely exhilarating…
…securely coy…
…furtive, fleeting, taboo…
though willingly innate.
silent observers swear by it:
the glance, the presence, the immense haughtiness.
innocent…yet charged with minute passion.
a glance met…
as a mask slides upon each player’s face:
a mute drama begins.
around each involvee a force field emerges:
actions of the other magnified,
leaving all else oblivious.
engaged in this duel of strangers two,
interest is feigned upon all else but the other,
so daringly they counter each other’s broach of space.
The untouched brush:
so close, so close…
to reach out and trace a finger upon….
yet moment by moment intimacy,
cannot purely connect them.
so there one and one,
stay each unknown:
to continue their glance
to continue their silent dance…
intotheindigo 
soothing voice….and I’m quite surprised how these words connect in my life……nicely penned down…:)
Thank you Pawan! =)
What a conquest…and mostly in the mind, a heavenly intoxication, that puts on smiles…she saw, he smiled – but so did everyone else 🙂
=) Thank you Eric for your comment, many a time even a smile is giving too much of a clue…it’s a silent battle of “looking to catch the other person looking” =)
I felt like I was straining towards the screen more and more as I read farther on in the poem. I felt it pulling me. This is excellent.
=) your comment makes me very happy, thank you. Yes that magnetism was what I was trying my best to convey…
“yet moment by moment intimacy,
cannot purely connect them.”
…beauteous indeed.
Thank you =)