The couple sat on stools that day,
by a café on Little Lonsdale’s way
no hurry in their gentle gaze,
just sunlight caught in Melbourne haze.
Both wore straw hats, soft and wide,
their brims like halos side by side;
steam rose lazy from their cups,
while city life kept filling up.
People passed in hurried streams,
heels clicking through their weekday dreams;
but in that lane, time bent and stayed
a still life softly overlaid.
Two straw hats, a quiet grace,
the world went on—they kept their place.
Sony A7RV
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