They talk about him
As if they know him,
Their knight in shining armor.
Every girl has an ideal
of the man
Who will come to love her.

She can describe him
Every detail: tall and dark,
Every hair in place,
Strong and righteous,
Smart and brave,
A gentleman of grace.

Perhaps I am practical,
for I do not sit
and talk among them.
I do have my ideals,
But in the end, they do not matter,
For I cannot describe him.

In my daydreams
I cannot clearly see him.
Where his face should be,
There is just a fog
Like a picture that has been blurred,
He remains hidden from me.

I couldn't pick him out
Aalking by me on the street.
There would be no recognition.
At times, I can feel his touch,
Feel him holding me,
But it is only a light sensation.

I do not know what he is like, therefore,
He could be anyone.
Petty specifics do not matter to me.
Above all looks, manners and wealth,
There is only one thing I ask for:
To be loved unconditionally.