A light wave of smoke dances in the air
to sunset musings of guitar and piano,
whose voices gently caress one another,
as passion burns from the inside out.
Souls are awoken from a single drink
whilst children bask in innocent play,
“Weren’t we the ones who ran so freely?”
you purr with a smile as I take your hand.
We run away to the cobbled streets
where music fades and our voices echo,
a stolen glance, an arch of the back,
here we are, young again.


© Sarah Mullaney