A Little Sacred Air

A cool breeze slipping
through the summer heat,
your slender fingers
looped around my wrist,
taking my pulse with you
my heart's parting gift.

The train is slowly drawing out
pulling away along a needle track,
syringing you from Oxford Road
a beat's worth of blood revoked.

Today as children wait for the 8.38
& office workers step from the 7.45,
I see your space still there, a saved
place out of time, a little sacred air.


John G.Hall(c)2004