Half hour

A lovely painting I bought from a local painter — She seems so graceful

Whenever we meet, there seems to be a time limit.
Half hour. Right on the dot. Nothing more, nothing less.
But oh, so much more than less.
We haven’t talked for months. I’ve been running, per usual.
You have been actively still, per usual.
Our times are usually planned though our conversations are never constructed.
Natural, basic human connection defines our keen discourse.
Half hour. In the midst of my world spinning and crashing down, time becomes my devoted accomplice.
You, remain, my doting friend.

Someday I hope to stretch our half hours but for now, this moment, that half hour is all I’ve ever need.

Thank you, universe,
Sahra