Interlude

We slept there.
On the stripped wooden floorboards
That left tracks of splinters in our knees, and across our backs.
We laid there until the sun rose high,
Not looking forward, not pining to claw time back.

We lived in that moment.
Both knowing without acknowledging
That the morning had to come.
And when it did, this would all be over,
Our brief but perfect interlude was done.

© M K Lee