Time Stays, We Go Together

Amidst the velvety twilight, where the sky was set aflame by the departing sun, they strolled through the museum's grand atrium. The air was alive with the whispers of the past, as if the very walls were sharing ancient secrets.

They walked hand in hand, their footsteps echoing off the marble floors, as they made their way to the latest exhibition. The words of a poet echoed in his mind, a phrase that had haunted him since their first meeting: "Time goes, you say? Ah no! Time stays, *we* go." As they stood before a majestic Monet, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a golden light upon the painting, she turned to him with a curious expression. "What do you see in this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He closed his eyes, allowing the colors to dance across his retina, and replied, "I see the ebb and flow of life.

The way the light trembles on the water, like the fragile balance between our desires and the world's indifference." Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she leaned in, her breath caressing his ear. "You see the world through the lens of art, don't you?" He smiled, feeling the gentle pressure of her hand in his. "Perhaps," he said, "but it's only when I'm with you that I truly see the beauty in the world." As the sun dipped below the horizon, they left the museum, the evening air carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the rooftop garden above. They made their way to the cozy café on the top floor, where they had planned to meet for dinner.

The soft glow of candles and the gentle hum of conversation created a sense of intimacy, as if the world outside had melted away. Over a meal of delicate pasta and rich sauces, they talked of literature and poetry, their words weaving a tapestry of shared interests and passions. He spoke of the way words could transport him to another time and place, and she shared her love of the Brontë sisters, their novels a reflection of her own struggles and triumphs. The conversation flowed like a gentle stream, its gentle currents carrying them deeper into each other's souls. As the night deepened, they strolled through the quiet streets, the city's sounds muffled by the soft blanket of darkness. They walked to the nearby park, where a small pond reflected the starry sky above.

They sat on a bench, their hands entwined, as they watched the stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse. He pulled out a small notebook and began to read a poem, his voice low and husky. The words danced across the page, a gentle melody that wove itself into the fabric of the night. The poem spoke of love as a force that transcended time, a bond that remained strong despite the passage of years. As he finished reading, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, and whispered, "I feel it, too. The time we spend together, the memories we create, it's as if we're creating our own reality, our own time." In that moment, the world seemed to slow, the stars twinkling in rhythm with their own beating hearts. The phrase echoed in his mind once more, a reminder of the power of love to defy the passage of time. Time goes, you say? Ah no! Time stays, *we* go.