by LongJohn

We meet where no one’s lookin’,
down by the old stone wall,
where nettles grow and time forgets
to tick too loud at all.

She brings a smile, I bring me hand,
and we sit close, not sayin’ much.
Just fingers twined, and hearts that thump
like boots on gravel touch.

It’s not grand, this love we’ve got,
but it’s ours, and it’s alive.
We steal it from the world each week,
like bread to help us thrive.

A nod, a glance, a whispered laugh,
then off we go again —
back to rules and quiet rooms,
till next we dodge the rain.