rise

(G)
The ground floor.
He stood near the elevator.
Delevation, swallowed 49 seconds.
The door opened.
To get to the top most floor, no clue why, but just should.
The watchman he animatedly talked.
With a friend his, in a blue woolen jacket.
Ting.
The elevator.

(1)
Up and above.
Floor one, in digital red.
Closed elevator door.
Voice of a talking parrot.
“Tuesday today!”

(2)
Up and above.
Floor two, digital red again.
Elevator door would not open for good.
A scream.
Glass shattering.
A silent shiver.

(3)
Up and above.
Floor three, three in red, digitally.
_ , |, _, | and _
In some order.
Door closed still.
The typewriter played songs of being alone.
No songs of loneliness, for the window was.

(T)
Up and above.
The terrace.
Door opened.
Sunshine, breeze, ruffled hair.
Freedom.
An unknown leap.

(T)
Steely elevator doors again.
Delevate, one should.
Buddha did.
Ting.
Open, close.
Down and below.

(3)
Music played, a muted type writer.
Nobody slept.
So did the delevator.
Closed for good.
Down and below.

(2)
Dead silence.
A digital two.
Only the breaths, that made any noise.
At all.
No open.
Down and below.

(1)
“Tuesday yesterday”
A doubtful parrot.
Or a parrot to be doubted.
“Paa paa green parrot, have you a song?”
“Tuesday yesterday”.
Closed.
Down and below.

(G)
Ting.
A bump and a stop.
Ready for elevation, delevation done.
Buddha did.
Open.
Watchman alone.
“Wednesday already?”
A blue woolen jacket guffaw.
A silent walk away.

Something was lost.