An Hour Stolen

I wandered into the café at dawn,

quiet pressed like a secret against my chest—

the air thick with warm possibilities,

steam rising like lost time,

a delicate dance.

Sipping coffee too hot,

the world just waking,

I found a space where stillness hung,

each sip a soft moment to savor,

like stolen kisses in fading light.

The sun crept in slow,

gilding the edges of everything,

my heart catching up, a clumsy breath,

as if the day needed this,

this gentle break from the rush,

a stolen hour just for me—

I sat there,

a ghost between time.

How quickly I forget,

a gift wrapped in silence,

where thoughts linger longer,

between the ticking hands of the clock.