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Stolen Key

A few stolen moments,
ten stories high.
The gravel crunches underfoot
and air conditioners hum.

we're not supposed to be here

Drifting through the early sky,
pink and golden clouds
look succulent, delicious,
like the flesh of a pilfered peach.

hush and watch the sun rise

Skyscrapers glitter at this hour,
columns of reflected fire.
No worries yet of profit and loss,
only a faint troubling smell of coffee.

don't let the morning go

Drink the golden air.
Stop today's arrival.
Forget the life that waits below,
where headlights pierce the gloom.

don't say it's time to go

Before we can breathe again,
this moment will have passed.
Just another sunrise
stolen by the day.

This is a Sunday Scribblings post.

9 comments:

oldegg said...

I loved this waking up to reality after a night of romance (OK passion then) and realizing that it all must end.

March 11, 2012 at 4:07 AM
jaerose said...

I think your night owl ways seeped into this piece..it had a sense of seeing the world from a different view..like a rooftop..were no one else spoilt the view..a magical door for which they had the key..wonderful..Jae

March 11, 2012 at 4:18 AM
Susan Helene Gottfried said...

Okay, don't laugh, but this calls to mind my own yearning to view life from the top of a skyscraper.

Nicely done, Ann. What a great way to wake up!

March 11, 2012 at 6:39 AM
Ann (bunnygirl) said...

@Susan: This is actually based on a very old desire I had to watch the sunrise from the roof of a building I used to work at. Our club occupied the entire top floor and we had the best sunset view in town. I knew the sunrise would be just as good, but even though I kept my roof key when I left, I never got around to taking someone up there to cap off a night-long adventure by watching the sun rise.

March 11, 2012 at 10:15 AM
Josie Two Shoes said...

I arrive early to work at a tall building and could so relate to the quiet and light streaming thru the windows, faint smell of coffee, before the busyness of business ruins the day. Good poem!

March 11, 2012 at 4:45 PM
Bøllemamma said...

Iliked the feel of your poem, the time in the morning when you're still just yourself, enjoying the morning, right before you have to be the person you are at work; still yourself, but different, proffesional.

March 12, 2012 at 4:12 AM
Archna Sharma said...

I know that your sky was early and your air was still golden but this made me think of night. With the idea of creatures who breathe lightly in those hours(maybe vampires). Mainly the last line.

I enjoyed following the italicized part of the story, where the moment was too precious to let go.

March 12, 2012 at 7:30 PM
Alice Audrey said...

I love the lines

"only a faint troubling smell of coffee"

and

"Just another sunrise
stolen by the day."

March 13, 2012 at 1:13 AM
Solitary wanderer said...

Very interesting and also very picturesque . The words really help bring the picture to life.


http://a-different-train-of-thought.blogspot.in/

March 17, 2012 at 3:14 AM