Stolen Moments

Time roars past us both

wind rattling commuter train windows

those around us focused on newspaper

avoiding threat of human contact


You and I are brave

we are the thieves of time 

writing our own novel set in Hemingway’s Paris

we paint midnight in Van Gogh’s colours


Savouring our conversation’s natural flow

down to the sacred river cleansing our spirits

a precious liberty bought from mundane concerns

we drink each other in during stolen moments


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