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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