Hand in hand, side by side, we sat
Under the ticking filtered sky
The flickering stars mesmerised us,
Only for a moment.
There under the purple twilight,
On the soft blue grass, we shared
Chicken and lamb.
You smiled and I blushed.
Your kiss and my kiss.
As the suspended stars went on strike mid-air,
We made our own show.
The sun came and rained on our parade,
But we went on into Act II anyway.
The audience smiled and applauded.
When the curtain rose for our finale,
We were trundling away, eyes fixated on houses.
Snails, millions of minutes and a collective plural later,
We climbed our ladders for our final trick,
As we parted, hearts broke, lips pined and we landed,
On the worn seats of the loyal servants of our jailers.
With that, our show lay like sleeping beauty
Pining for the kiss of life.
Has it been a century yet?