Paris, or The Instant Before You Caught Me

It's cold and April.
I rise early
watch my breath condense
think of nothing
feel Time's pretty chasm
yawning out in front of me.
The old part of the city is
around us
below us
present in every breath we take.

I watch you.
Content with coffee
and unwritten words,
I sit. You soar.
You're breathtaking
nude
watching nothing
waiting for the sky to happen.
Inside,
I close my eyes
savour your splendour.
I was put here for
this single moment.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

Wonderful playing about with the concept of time-- its "petty chasm/yawning out in front of me", the distinct mention of "(t)he old part of the city" all juxtaposed against the final image of "this single moment." There is more than mere playfulness herein, of course; it is almost cinematic capturing of a vignette, caught in such a way that it is almost-three dimensional, with characters who live and breathe, which is woefully difficult to do, let alone do this well.

[itsnoteoin]

wow! what words. I am truly in your debt. thank you, friend.