We sit across from each other
People think he's my brother
He'll hold my hand discretely
Where no-one's able to see

At the back of a warm cafe
On a beautiful, warm sunny day
In the art gallery of all places
Filled with unfamiliar faces
No-one knows us up here
No-one we know will appear

We sit and talk for hours
Yet time is still never ours
As we talk we steal little glances
Ones where your heart dances
As you look at the art of creation
The only art for your imagination

No need for paintings on the wall
Why? when here you have it all
Delicate soft curves and textures
Expertly blended colour mixtures
Gentle bumps on the canvas surface
Where shadows have their purpose
A well struck balance of spaces
Filled by delicate little traces
Of the scars of a life already lived
The sorrow and joy is clearly listed

What use is a still lifeless sculpture
When you have a moving culture
Of cells and thoughts and spirit
Of love and everything with it
Of a person who is not explicit

One who is so subtle and clean
Like someone you've never seen
So gentle and caring
And ultimately daring
As he braves the obstacles
That places us in shackles

I'm sure that we're cheating
As sure as my heart's beating
We're cheating on the art
Because it doesn't have heart.