The streets, weary, lie still.

Four flights up

Heavy as middle age

I ascend.

There is music upstairs

And noodles dripping in butter.

Like a hungry dog

I ascend.

There is Lois upstairs

And her books and her children

And her smile.

Lumbering like a wounded elephant,

Heavy of tread, off balance, determined,

I ascend.

Seven years now we have

Toiled together, broken bread together, slept together.

Strong coffee kisses.

Upstairs is a comrade

With beautiful legs.

The streets are empty, my life is full.

It is the dead of the night.

Dead tired, but very much alive,

I ascend.