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.