Steal a walk.

Steal a walk.


I cannot copy the finest strokes of your artists loving hand,

I may not see the minute detail of what maybe his best portrayal,

I may not even understand that the pastel colours matched his moods.

And

Even without fine strokes, minute detail and pastel colours,

His expression remains vivid, captured on a canvas long since yellowing.

But I saw your face in the crowd,

High above the rest.

I saw your loneliness chased away,

By conversation.

I saw your smile, just as the artist painted it,

And I glimpsed your face in the crowd.

I heard you steal a walk through the valley

Of fine strokes, minute detail and pastel colours.

I heard you steal a walk through the valley,

Away from the crowd, away from my eyes.

I cannot follow you lest you fade forever,

I cannot steal a walk through the valley.

But I did see your face in the crowd.