peace remains when the fleeting
has fled to the thrones
in a hall
of a little
little bit
of time.

"whose time?",
you always ask.

"not yours," infallibly i respond.

"well, then... also not yours."

"i only wish to answer your impossible question."

"i only wish you'd supply the answer i crave."

then,
i take your hand
in mine.

"this is what we have.
right now.
this. now."

infallibly you smile.