A Stolen Hour

I stole a moment from time’s steady march,

sat on the steps, feeling the air so brisk,

a child ran past, light as a lark,

while I counted seconds, the clock’s cruel whisk.

Responsibilities called, a siren’s tune,

yet I lingered, desperate for this breath,

drowning in shadows of the lazy afternoon,

a stolen hour that flirts with the edge of death.